Shipping VIII: Yes, Eight. No, really. We are THAT insane.

[Destro_Yersul]

WARNING: This thread contains romance between forum members. While kept within the PG rating of this thread, it may still disturb anyone who reads it. There has been quite a shortage of brain bleach lately, so you may have to make some of your own at home, bring the kids!

Rules:
Keep it forum friendly.
No overly sexual stuff.
Each pairing must have at least one forum member.
When posting a fic please state above the story who you're shipping.
Only post fic about people who have given their permission in either This Thread or somewhere else. There is an updated list of people who have given permission linked below.

Helpful stuffs:
Definition of Shipping (no, it is not to package things and send them...atleast, not in this context)
The Shipping Permissions List
First Thread
Second Thread
Third Thread
Fourth Thread
Fifth Thread
Sixth Thread
Seventh Thread

Shipping Archive

[Dallas-Dakota]

Hmmm pine with a touch of Cthuloid squick.

Shipping, I'm loving it!

Also re-post so it doesn't get sucked away under thread abandonment and Cristo's ship.

Shyness, LARP'ing and more.
Dragona/???, also featuring Dallas and mention of Destro Yersul

Spoiler

Show

''Hey, Dragona, wanna go to the park or something? It's boiling in here.''
Dallas tried to convince Dragona.
They'd been long time friends, both had not had many friends in their normal school lives and found a friendship through music and LARP'ing.

It had been built up quietly through the years.
They had never actually spoken about their real lives for the first few events, scattered over some months, content to just be their characters.

Dallas never really interacted that much, he just didn't find people interesting while Dragona was more of the shy kind.
But Dallas knew that it was just something in her mind, for her character could be very talkative.

Slowly they just went to events more, toghetter. Some assumed them to be a couple, but neither bothered or dared to speak something against it. They both knew that they were good friends, and nothing more.

''Alright, just don't try to make me talk to people...''
''You know me better then that, don't you? Dallas responded with a look.
Yes, I do....

They slowly got up and wandered through neighbourhouds and parks.
They finally settled at a playground, sitting silently on the swings.

A figure slowly walked into the park, not really paying attention.
He walked towards a empty section. As he walked closer they reognized him as Caramir, err, or whatever his name is.
Caramir walked towards it and took out coloured chalk.

Dallas and Dragona suddenly noticed a huge wall chalk drawing, which was previously hidden behind bushes, but Caramir had pushed them away.

You know you want to talk to him.
Maybe....
Just ask him his real name or talk about in-game things...You know plenty of in-game things..

Dragona silently pushed herself of the swing, only a sudden creak giving her away to Caramir.

Caramir suddenly turned around, the red chalk in his hand falling.
Slowly a sparkle of recognition ignited in his eyes, as he saw Dragona.

Hey.
Hey, didn't know you lived around here.
Ditto, so what has Caramir been up to lately?
This and that, ofcourse bluffing the thieves guild and living and being able to tell the tale and small stuff like that..
''Ofcourse Yersul isn't going to like that...
Totally why I did it.
They banter around, Dallas and drawings forgotten. Eventually they walk home to his place for dinner.

Dallas sees it all from the swing, hoping that sometime the same will happen to him.
Good for her.

[CurlyKitGirl]

I like this thread, smells all new and booky.

DD: Love the ship, it's sweet. Dragona's DeeRee yeah?

[TwoBitWriter]

I am posting here to get the subscription.


What a day...

Spoiler

Show

Haha, did you really expect me to post a ship?

[randman22222]

Housewarming
CKG/Dr. Bath with appearances.

Creative liberties taken with personalities. Chiefly my own. >.>

Spoiler

Show

The image shimmered and distorted the land around it, at a point close to the horizon. It looked no different than the countless other mirages Kurl-Khi'itgah and Ba-Thel had seen. The difference now was that, by their rough estimates, they should be nearing Nabta Playa, the city which they'd bought a house in. Kurl felt herself tense up slightly, in almost giddy anticipation of their new home. The two figures, clothed in dull, tan, and sandy robes, atop their grey mules, inched through the desert.

Kurl spoke.
"Bat," ('Bat' was her name for him, and it originally annoyed him. Bat is a goddess of the cosmos, and he found it strange to be compared to a goddess. But Kurl liked it, and wasn't going to stop using it.) "we're close enough that that could be the lake, aren't we?"
"Well, if you see it, then that means I'm not hallucinating, and —"
"Hah! Hallucinating. What are we, two travellers lost in the desert, dying of thirst?" She smiled and scoffed at him.
He rolled his eyes and became infected by her smile, smiling as well. "Yes, it could very well be the lake."

Presently, Kurl reached down into a pack slung over her mule, and drank water from a flask there. Then she nearly gagged on the water as a pungeunt smell drifted past their miniature caravan. Off to the right, as Bat pointed out, was what appeared to be the corpse of a lamb, burning. Not another person in sight to offer an explanation.

*****

They decided to move because the cost of living was far lower in Nabta Playa. It had a seasonal lake, which made water plentiful during the summer, when it rained. Also, most cloth and clothing had to be imported from Nubt, their previous city (which was certainly not a place to raise a child), and as tailors, they could make a slightly better living in their new city.

Bat was removing some of the smaller bits of plain, wooden furniture from their cart - two stools, two bedrolls, among other things - as Kurl was talking to Rahnd-Imahn, the merchant who rented them the mules, and travelled the first half of the trip with them. She and the merchant stood in the shade created by their new home's mudbrick face.

After paying the deposit on the mules, she idly said, "Gods help me through this."
Rahnd looked up from counting the coins. "New house? Yesss, not always easy to adjust to. Offerings to a god, yes. Offerings. Which god?" He thought for a second. "Bes, if I were you." He spoke in his usual, slightly drawling voice.

She thanked Imahn one more time before he left, said a good-bye, to which he did not respond. He merely threw one hand over his shoulder in what must have been a wave. Or something of that nature. He walked off, his odd red and purple garment swaying about him. She shrugged, thought about what he said. It wasn't for the new house she was asking for divine help. Complications in childbirth ran in her family. Complications that made her cling to Bat at three in the morning. Her aunt had died in childbirth, and her older sister.

The next morning, Bat was rearranging the furniture, muttering to himself, "No... To the left." He rotated the simple table ninety degrees, and put it where a window's light fell, scraping up the beige floor as he did so. Kurl came downstairs, a proud smile on her face.

"I just finished setting up the loom," she told Bath, awaiting an impressed look. Theirs was a complicated mechanism, that usually took both of them an hour or so to assemble.
Surpressing how impressed he actually was, he responded, "Oh, good. That's one less thing to do."
"Right. I'll just go to the local market, and find out what I can about local flax sellers." She knew he would be trying to one-up her while she was gone.

Upon paths of gritty sand Kurl walked to the market district of the city. The market was far less bustling than in Nubt, but despite fewer vibrantly dyed fabrics, and fewer aromas coming from the spice stalls, it had a homlier feel to it. The ones working the stalls were friendlier, and the faces were less monotonous, each one seeming to have some story to tell. In fact, one recognised face appeared presently, from the livestock street. His face was alight with a triumphant look, and curisoity drove her to go find out what the look was about. "Triumph? Excitement? This isn't like Rahnd, why's he not being so monotnous?" she wondered, whilst trying to read his face.

After catching up with him, she asked, "Hey, where'd you get the mask from?" with a wry smile.
"Ohh, Kurl. I just got back — from the — from a merchant, who's just told me, yes, that the soil here. The soil here is not good for planting certain crops. It's hard to grow feed here..."
Partway through Rahnd's plodding explanation, a thought entered Kurl's mind, stage left. Sometimes she got thoughts that seemed to originate from an existence not perceivable by human senses. At least, that's how they seemed to her. And the thought was:
"What if we were to sacrifice him?"
She nodded as Rahnd seemed to be finishing up his speech. It wasn't that she hadn't been paying attention, it was just that with the thoughts turning themselves over in her head, she couldn't care less about him raising the money to move his family to Nabta Playa.

*****

Later, as the sun was bathing the town in purples an oranges, Kurl was just leaving the house of a well-off farming family, which managed several fields of flax. She'd reached an agreement in which the family would sell Kurl and Bat their flax, at prices that made her jaw drop. In the good way. Now that she'd gotten that loose end tied up, she let her thoughts stray back towards the sacrifice. She'd made up her mind, and decided to head back to the busier part of town, to the temple. She needed to sacrifice something for the childbirth. But was it okay to sacrifice a human? No doubts remained in her mind that the goddess Meskhenet would appreciate it if she did, but would the preistesses allow it?

"Bat's probably starting to wonder what's taking me so long. I'll make this as short as I can. Won't have to answer any questions then." She feared what he might say about her idea of a sacrifice.

She ventured through the market again, this time in the direction of the government buildings, where the temple was located. It was bigger than any of the buildings surrounding it, and more decorated; a floral pattern was inlaid in its front pillars, made to look like emerald. Of course, it probably would have been cheaper to actually use emerald. Some of the market buildings were growing larger, as well. The temple would have competition soon.

By the time she was nearing the temple, employees of the oldest profession were beginning to show themselves. Kurl hurried. Worse than the employees were the clients. "Still," she thought, "this isn't half as bad as Nubt would get." She was nearly to the temple now.

Inside the temple, which was lit by oil lamps in a romantic manner, Kurl found one of the priestesses. She was clad in garments of linen finer than Kurl and Bat had ever made. "Doing the gods' will pays, naturally."

"Em hotep nefer," said the priestess, in greeting.
"Em hotep," Kurl replied. "I've come here for advice. I'm pregnant."
"Meskhenet's blessing is upon you, then. I suppose you're wondering how to make it go smoothly?"
"Yes. What can I sacrifice to please Meskhenet?"
Without changing the blank expression on her face, the priestess responded, "A ewe is best for Meskhenet, but if you can only acquire a calf, then it will suffice."
"And... What if all we can acquire is a person? Don't get me wrong, it'd be a good, bright m—" But the priestess cut her off, her bored expression changed into shock.
"Meskhenet is a goddess of life, and creation! You're not going to sacrifice a human. That's a sure way to incur her wrath. Now leave. Waste no more of my time."

Seething, Kurl left. "Why would Meskhenet prefer an animal life over a human life? It's nonsense!" On the way back, she had to deal with no creatures of the night. Just the look on her face kept them away. She got home to Bat pacing back and forth, who both wanted to kill and cuddle Kurl.

"Where have you been, Kurl? All night?"
Snapping back at him, she said, "I was at the temple. Meskhenet's. Seeing what we could sacrifice to make the birth" (she was just barely beginning to show her pregnancy) "go smoother."
"Okay. You didn't tell me you were going anywhere. I assume this was on one of your whims? Nevermind. What did you find out on your little mission?" He still looked cross.
She wondered if it would be safe to tell him what, or rather, who she'd been thinking of sacrificing. But... She'd have to. Soon. "He could, and I think, would help me."

Kurl sighed. Bat looked at her expectantly.

"I... was thinking of a sacrifice. To help with the childbirth. I went to the temple of Meskhenet to ask a priestess what kind of animal would be acceptable. Orrr... If we could sacrifice Rahnd since he's a smart enough man despite the oddities and—" She spewed the last part out, and stopped talking before she could do more damage.

Bat scowled. Kurl waited for him to explode (which would be the first time he did so.)

After a bit, he spoke calmly. "I don't see why not."

In a daze, Kurl followed Bat outside. He was muttering to himself, "This'd be great... Raise to be a great kid... How do we get Rahnd where we need him?" He led them up to the astronomic calendar near their house. About twenty-nine massive, rectangular-chiseled rocks in a circle, aligned with various parts of the year. Solstices, equinoxes, and points in between would have the sun rise and set between specific stones. There were several stones in the centre that aligned with certain stars, but neither of the two knew exactly how those worked. They sat atop one of the shorter stones, watching the stars. Bat had one arm around her shoulders, the other resting where their baby was slowly beginning to show itself.

"The summer solstice is soon. Three days," Bat said.
"That night will be the best time to sacrifice Rahnd."
"And then we'll have a beautiful child."

They sat and watched the skies unfold themselves, cascading over the slate of night. After many uncounted minutes passed, Bat got up, promising a quick return. He walked calmly down the moon and starlit slope, covered in sparse grass, and down the road to their new home, where he found a sacrificial knife his father had given him. He returned with it.

"My father gave this to me, and I forgot about it until now. I wasn't as spiritual back then, and had just put it some place where I thought I'd forget about it."
"A sacrificial knife? It'll work great." She paused. "Also, what do you think we should name the child?"

A neighbour of theirs happened to look out at the newest addition to their street, stargazing atop one of the megaliths that made up the astral calendar. All he could think was, "They'll make great parents."

[RabbitHoleLost]

Rand: The long awaited ship, eh?
I came out of hiding from this thread to comment.
First off, its very odd. I like it, but its so different. Its like...nothing quite happened, but lots of things did.
Hmmm.
I think I'll need to reread it and chew over it for a bit.

[Dallas-Dakota]

DD: Love the ship, it's sweet. Dragona's DeeRee yeah?

Thenkee, and yeah, Dragona = DeeRee.
I've fallen into habbit of calling her Dragona...

I blame her and Felix.

[horngeek]

Well, I shudder to think what I'll end up being referred to in ships.

I mean, Geeky sounds odd...

But Horny just sounds wrong.

[Felixaar]

Thenkee, and yeah, Dragona = DeeRee.
I've fallen into habbit of calling her Dragona...

I blame her and Felix.

Me? What'd I do? I only really call her Dragonrider, or one of a multitude of nicknames that in no way actually derives from that.

Well, except DR, I guess, and El Doctor thanks to Dr. being short for whats that? You guessed it-- Doctor!

[CurlyKitGirl]

Housewarming
CKG/Dr. Bath with appearances.

Creative liberties taken with personalities. Chiefly my own. >.>

Spoiler

Show

The image shimmered and distorted the land around it, at a point close to the horizon. It looked no different than the countless other mirages Kurl-Khi'itgah and Ba-Thel had seen. The difference now was that, by their rough estimates, they should be nearing Nabta Playa, the city which they'd bought a house in. Kurl felt herself tense up slightly, in almost giddy anticipation of their new home. The two figures, clothed in dull, tan, and sandy robes, atop their grey mules, inched through the desert.

Kurl spoke.
"Bat," ('Bat' was her name for him, and it originally annoyed him. Bat is a goddess of the cosmos, and he found it strange to be compared to a goddess. But Kurl liked it, and wasn't going to stop using it.) "we're close enough that that could be the lake, aren't we?"
"Well, if you see it, then that means I'm not hallucinating, and —"
"Hah! Hallucinating. What are we, two travellers lost in the desert, dying of thirst?" She smiled and scoffed at him.
He rolled his eyes and became infected by her smile, smiling as well. "Yes, it could very well be the lake."

Presently, Kurl reached down into a pack slung over her mule, and drank water from a flask there. Then she nearly gagged on the water as a pungeunt smell drifted past their miniature caravan. Off to the right, as Bat pointed out, was what appeared to be the corpse of a lamb, burning. Not another person in sight to offer an explanation.

*****

They decided to move because the cost of living was far lower in Nabta Playa. It had a seasonal lake, which made water plentiful during the summer, when it rained. Also, most cloth and clothing had to be imported from Nubt, their previous city (which was certainly not a place to raise a child), and as tailors, they could make a slightly better living in their new city.

Bat was removing some of the smaller bits of plain, wooden furniture from their cart - two stools, two bedrolls, among other things - as Kurl was talking to Rahnd-Imahn, the merchant who rented them the mules, and travelled the first half of the trip with them. She and the merchant stood in the shade created by their new home's mudbrick face.

After paying the deposit on the mules, she idly said, "Gods help me through this."
Rahnd looked up from counting the coins. "New house? Yesss, not always easy to adjust to. Offerings to a god, yes. Offerings. Which god?" He thought for a second. "Bes, if I were you." He spoke in his usual, slightly drawling voice.

She thanked Imahn one more time before he left, said a good-bye, to which he did not respond. He merely threw one hand over his shoulder in what must have been a wave. Or something of that nature. He walked off, his odd red and purple garment swaying about him. She shrugged, thought about what he said. It wasn't for the new house she was asking for divine help. Complications in childbirth ran in her family. Complications that made her cling to Bat at three in the morning. Her aunt had died in childbirth, and her older sister.

The next morning, Bat was rearranging the furniture, muttering to himself, "No... To the left." He rotated the simple table ninety degrees, and put it where a window's light fell, scraping up the beige floor as he did so. Kurl came downstairs, a proud smile on her face.

"I just finished setting up the loom," she told Bath, awaiting an impressed look. Theirs was a complicated mechanism, that usually took both of them an hour or so to assemble.
Surpressing how impressed he actually was, he responded, "Oh, good. That's one less thing to do."
"Right. I'll just go to the local market, and find out what I can about local flax sellers." She knew he would be trying to one-up her while she was gone.

Upon paths of gritty sand Kurl walked to the market district of the city. The market was far less bustling than in Nubt, but despite fewer vibrantly dyed fabrics, and fewer aromas coming from the spice stalls, it had a homlier feel to it. The ones working the stalls were friendlier, and the faces were less monotonous, each one seeming to have some story to tell. In fact, one recognised face appeared presently, from the livestock street. His face was alight with a triumphant look, and curisoity drove her to go find out what the look was about. "Triumph? Excitement? This isn't like Rahnd, why's he not being so monotnous?" she wondered, whilst trying to read his face.

After catching up with him, she asked, "Hey, where'd you get the mask from?" with a wry smile.
"Ohh, Kurl. I just got back — from the — from a merchant, who's just told me, yes, that the soil here. The soil here is not good for planting certain crops. It's hard to grow feed here..."
Partway through Rahnd's plodding explanation, a thought entered Kurl's mind, stage left. Sometimes she got thoughts that seemed to originate from an existence not perceivable by human senses. At least, that's how they seemed to her. And the thought was:
"What if we were to sacrifice him?"
She nodded as Rahnd seemed to be finishing up his speech. It wasn't that she hadn't been paying attention, it was just that with the thoughts turning themselves over in her head, she couldn't care less about him raising the money to move his family to Nabta Playa.

*****

Later, as the sun was bathing the town in purples an oranges, Kurl was just leaving the house of a well-off farming family, which managed several fields of flax. She'd reached an agreement in which the family would sell Kurl and Bat their flax, at prices that made her jaw drop. In the good way. Now that she'd gotten that loose end tied up, she let her thoughts stray back towards the sacrifice. She'd made up her mind, and decided to head back to the busier part of town, to the temple. She needed to sacrifice something for the childbirth. But was it okay to sacrifice a human? No doubts remained in her mind that the goddess Meskhenet would appreciate it if she did, but would the preistesses allow it?

"Bat's probably starting to wonder what's taking me so long. I'll make this as short as I can. Won't have to answer any questions then." She feared what he might say about her idea of a sacrifice.

She ventured through the market again, this time in the direction of the government buildings, where the temple was located. It was bigger than any of the buildings surrounding it, and more decorated; a floral pattern was inlaid in its front pillars, made to look like emerald. Of course, it probably would have been cheaper to actually use emerald. Some of the market buildings were growing larger, as well. The temple would have competition soon.

By the time she was nearing the temple, employees of the oldest profession were beginning to show themselves. Kurl hurried. Worse than the employees were the clients. "Still," she thought, "this isn't half as bad as Nubt would get." She was nearly to the temple now.

Inside the temple, which was lit by oil lamps in a romantic manner, Kurl found one of the priestesses. She was clad in garments of linen finer than Kurl and Bat had ever made. "Doing the gods' will pays, naturally."

"Em hotep nefer," said the priestess, in greeting.
"Em hotep," Kurl replied. "I've come here for advice. I'm pregnant."
"Meskhenet's blessing is upon you, then. I suppose you're wondering how to make it go smoothly?"
"Yes. What can I sacrifice to please Meskhenet?"
Without changing the blank expression on her face, the priestess responded, "A ewe is best for Meskhenet, but if you can only acquire a calf, then it will suffice."
"And... What if all we can acquire is a person? Don't get me wrong, it'd be a good, bright m—" But the priestess cut her off, her bored expression changed into shock.
"Meskhenet is a goddess of life, and creation! You're not going to sacrifice a human. That's a sure way to incur her wrath. Now leave. Waste no more of my time."

Seething, Kurl left. "Why would Meskhenet prefer an animal life over a human life? It's nonsense!" On the way back, she had to deal with no creatures of the night. Just the look on her face kept them away. She got home to Bat pacing back and forth, who both wanted to kill and cuddle Kurl.

"Where have you been, Kurl? All night?"
Snapping back at him, she said, "I was at the temple. Meskhenet's. Seeing what we could sacrifice to make the birth" (she was just barely beginning to show her pregnancy) "go smoother."
"Okay. You didn't tell me you were going anywhere. I assume this was on one of your whims? Nevermind. What did you find out on your little mission?" He still looked cross.
She wondered if it would be safe to tell him what, or rather, who she'd been thinking of sacrificing. But... She'd have to. Soon. "He could, and I think, would help me."

Kurl sighed. Bat looked at her expectantly.

"I... was thinking of a sacrifice. To help with the childbirth. I went to the temple of Meskhenet to ask a priestess what kind of animal would be acceptable. Orrr... If we could sacrifice Rahnd since he's a smart enough man despite the oddities and—" She spewed the last part out, and stopped talking before she could do more damage.

Bat scowled. Kurl waited for him to explode (which would be the first time he did so.)

After a bit, he spoke calmly. "I don't see why not."

In a daze, Kurl followed Bat outside. He was muttering to himself, "This'd be great... Raise to be a great kid... How do we get Rahnd where we need him?" He led them up to the astronomic calendar near their house. About twenty-nine massive, rectangular-chiseled rocks in a circle, aligned with various parts of the year. Solstices, equinoxes, and points in between would have the sun rise and set between specific stones. There were several stones in the centre that aligned with certain stars, but neither of the two knew exactly how those worked. They sat atop one of the shorter stones, watching the stars. Bat had one arm around her shoulders, the other resting where their baby was slowly beginning to show itself.

"The summer solstice is soon. Three days," Bat said.
"That night will be the best time to sacrifice Rahnd."
"And then we'll have a beautiful child."

They sat and watched the skies unfold themselves, cascading over the slate of night. After many uncounted minutes passed, Bat got up, promising a quick return. He walked calmly down the moon and starlit slope, covered in sparse grass, and down the road to their new home, where he found a sacrificial knife his father had given him. He returned with it.

"My father gave this to me, and I forgot about it until now. I wasn't as spiritual back then, and had just put it some place where I thought I'd forget about it."
"A sacrificial knife? It'll work great." She paused. "Also, what do you think we should name the child?"

A neighbour of theirs happened to look out at the newest addition to their street, stargazing atop one of the megaliths that made up the astral calendar. All he could think was, "They'll make great parents."

It's here! I've been waiting a while for the new thread to get started so you'd post this.
You kept the actual murder out of the ship which makes the story 'empty', but not. The action is very small and well - scattered so it makes it very pre - meditated which fits the premise.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Me? What'd I do? I only really call her Dragonrider, or one of a multitude of nicknames that in no way actually derives from that.

Well, except DR, I guess, and El Doctor thanks to Dr. being short for whats that? You guessed it-- Doctor!

You know what you did.

You should remember it...Especially since you promised us more of it in the end-of-last-thread.

[Dragonrider]

Cool, Dallas. Just like to point out, though..."slandered" doesn't mean what you would think it ought to. Maybe the word you're looking for is "meandered"?

[Dallas-Dakota]

Thenkee I just put in wandered now....

I blame the english language.

[Felixaar]

I always used to get "Meandered" confuse with "Neanderthal", so I assumed it meant to walk in a cavemanesque fashion.

Also, I've just noticed DD's icon is female Don't tell me I've got someone's gender wrong again. His name isn't one typically given to girls.

And yahs, a new HEAD and TAIL story will be here, but probably not soon

[Dirk Kris]

Scene Six: Beyond This Life (Two different links - the second part is amazing instumental until about the last 30 seconds)

Spoiler

Show

Fred began to convulse again in Dr. Destro's chair, this time without saying a word. The hypnotherapist stopped the clock and reached out to touch the young man, whose lips and face were starting to turn blue. As soon as his fingers brushed Fred's shoulder, the young man gasped for air and opened his eyes, sitting up straight in the lounge. With wide, wild eyes, he looked around, and only after several seconds did he begin to calm.

Dr. Yersul took off his glasses and wiped his hands across his face, concerned. "Lad, what happened?"

Fred looked at the older gentleman, still trembling. "1928. DeeRee, murdered. I...I have to go to 1928." Standing, he bolted from the room, ignoring the doctor's cries for caution.

At the public library, the desk clerk wondered briefly if the pale young man asking for the newspaper archives was on drugs. She directed him towards the machines they had scanned all the old papers into, storing the fragile documents in a secure room in the back. Fred sat at one, hands shaking. He flicked on the machine and nervously drummed his fingers as it hummed to life. Typing in his search parameters - 1928, murder, DeeRee - he waited, holding his breath, as it came up. He leaned forward to read it, the awful events playing out in his mind as he read the paper.

Headline - Murder, young girl killed!
Desperate shooting at Echo's Hill!
Dreadful ending, killer died!
Evidently suicide!

"Oh no - DeeRee..." Fred wiped at sudden tears that filled his eyes, then continued reading.

A witness heard a horrifying sound
He ran to find a woman dead and
Lying on the ground

Standing by her was a man
Nervous, shaking, gun in hand
Witness says he tried to help
But he turned the weapon on himself

His body fell across that poor young girl
After shouting out in vain
The witness ran to call for assistance
A sad close to a broken love affair...

It was there in all its lurid detail - DeeRee, blood pooling beneath her, eyes staring wide with surprise. The killer, standing over her in his jacket, gun smoking in his hand. The witness, some good Samaritan, came running in to see what had happened. The two men lock eyes, then the killer lifts the gun to his throat and pulls the trigger. He runs his hand through his blue-black hair, uncertain for just a moment - and then the light in his eyes goes out. He slumps across DeeRee's cooling body, the two wrapped in a morbid lover's embrace.

Suddenly, Fred swears he can hear her voice...

"Our deeds have traveled far
What we have been is what we are..."

Reading on, Fred learns that the killer was a man named Reinholdt, DeeRee's lover. They had been engaged, but it had been put on hold due to Reinholdt's apparent alcohol problem. Senator Twobit, the killer's brother, spilled out the story, tearful, ashamed. As Fred read on, the pieces all clicked into place - he knew DeeRee. Part of him was DeeRee...

"She wanted love forever
But he had another plan
He fell into an evil way
She had to let him down
She said "I can't love a wayward man."

She may have found a reason to forgive
If he had only tried to change
Was their fatal meeting prearranged?"

Zooming in on the old text, Fred continues to read, taking notes, learning all he could about it.

"Had a violent struggle taken place?
There was every sign that lead there
Witness found a switchblade on the ground
Was the victim unaware?
They continued to investigate
They found a note in the killer's pocket
It could have been a suicide letter
Maybe he had lost her love?"

Fred held his breath as he jumped ahead to another date to get the details of the letter.

"I feel there's only one thing left to do
I'd sooner take my life away than live with losing you."

Fred sits back, stunned. Reinholdt had killed her, then himself. The man who supposedly loved her. And he hears DeeRee's voice again...

"Our deeds have traveled far
What we have been is what we are

All that we learn this time
(What we have been is what we are)
Is carried beyond this life..."

Fred knows it to be true. He's always known DeeRee, known things he shouldn't have. And he sees a lot of her in himself - caring, thoughtful, at times too free with his heart. At the end of the last mention of the tragedy, Fred finds a funeral notice. It tells him where DeeRee is buried. He scribbles down the address, clutches his keys, and heads out.

[Dirk Kris]

...anyone?

[Destro_Yersul]

Would have commented yesterday, but I was out all night at a friends place. D&D. Anyways, back now.

And it was good, Dirk. It really was. I like the way you're tying all these together, and I like the glimpses of past lives and Fred's search.

[TwoBitWriter]

I already PM'd you my response, but I will announce it to the world.

I FREAKING LOVED IT AND I CANT WAIT TO SEE MORE OF THE STORY!

[Helgraf]

Requiem Mortis - The Tale thus far...

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D-Day
Requiem Mortis, Part 1
Requiem Mortis, Part 2
Requiem Mortis, Part 3
Requiem Mortis, Part 4

Most recently in Requiem Mortis

Spoiler

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Mordokai and "Miss Construed" wandered into the crypts; six tombs in, they paused for a time during which "Miss Construed" marked Mordokai with a copper pin that blended in with his hair. Shortly afterward, Mordokai felt a sudden icy chill as a familiar voice murmured inside his head; the one he'd taken to referring to as "Professor Masqued"

"I wonder what your ana'cam will think of your new adornment..."

Requiem Mortis, Part 5
(Mordokai, "Miss Construed", "Professor Masqued")

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Mordokai paused a moment, and quietly adjusted his shirt.

"What's it to you, anyhow," he thought back with a hint of indignation as he and his recent paramour headed down the next tunnel, toward the next crypt in the series.

"Aren't we the bold little cockerel while we're floating on tantric tides. I am of a mind t-." Mid-sentance she was cut off by an unusual buzzing, and a sudden spiking pain in the back of his head and his right wrist. He ground his teeth against one another, eyes watering. At the same time, "Miss Construed" turned sharply to regard him.

"You're already copper-marked?!" she spat out through clenched teeth, hands going up to rub her temples.

As she did so, the air around Mordokai grew thick and humid; a grasping gauntlet of squelching wetness that seemed to hold his neck like a vise and then slithered down along his body. Under different circumstances, he would have considered it quite erotic; sadly, right now it felt more like spending too many hours in the Kaydees during high summer with the rain always threatening to break, but never doing so. As the liquid sensation ran over his right hand, he screamed as the pain became suddenly his entire world; the sensation overwhelming his nerves - he collapsed to the floor twitching, unseeing, unaware of anything but the sudden alarm scream of crippling pain that shot back and forth between his hand and his head. He could not, thereby, see or smell the sudden smouldering of the flesh of his right wrist, nor the pulsing cherry-red metal imbedded within it that was the cause of his agony. Pulse raced, adrenaline coursed through his body as his glands engaged full flight mode in a panicked bid to escape whatever was causing this agony.

And then ... it receded, seemed to fly out of him, leaving in his hand and mind phantom echoes. Screaming faded to a quiet groaning. His senses slowly reoriented themselves; the stink of sour fear-sweat and the scent of charred meat first, then more subtle ones. Androstenone. Faint alkalitics, similiar to ones used in temple to preserve older holy works. His eyes
slowly refocused, and he realized he was staring at the ceiling of a crypt; one decorated with a mural depicting an attractive older woman amidst a swarm of ravens. A ring of white gold, set with a bloodstone, adorned her left hand; she stood fore to the night sky; pale grasses bent beneath her unadorned feet, stuck at odd angles up between her toes.

For her part, "Miss Construed" quietly examined the still cooling hair-thin bit of copper on the floor where it landed. Even after the reaction and being yanked out of the meat of his wrist, it still was an amazing bit of craftsmanship; thin as a hair, about as long as the width of a pinky, ending in a fisher's barb. Unlike her own, this one was clearly meant not to be noticed even by the person it was set in.

"Wha ... what in the hells just happened," Mordokai rumbled, drawing a quick, sharp breath.

She picked up the tiny faux hair with a pair of lead tweezers, bringing it over in a way that kept it from touching anything living, since she still did not know exactly how it worked and how it had been deployed.

"Copper marks are ... highly conductive. This makes them useful for anchoring a variety of effects. However, it also makes them subject to feedback resonance, which is why most sensible people only bear one." Her lips pursed a moment, and his expression was a slow echo of her own.

"But ... I've never taken a mark aside from Happy's ana'cam silver before today," he replied with a puzzled expression. His unmarred hand came up to run through his hair, stopping where the fingertips brushed the fringe of the nickle-sized depression where the hairs crumbled like ash under even that light exploratory pressure.

"That," she replied in that sort of odd tone that Mordokai noticed she tended to slip into when lecturing, "is because the person who stuck this," gesturing with the tweezers, "in you underwent no small effort to avoid notice."

His eyes focused slowly, with some residual difficulty on the tiny, barely visible thing she held captive in the tweezers.

"Something to worry about once we're out of here," he growled, "and have time to investigate properly. So, have I earned the secret of what it is you're looking for down here yet?"

"Ahhh ... no. But, I think you certainly deserve something for how ill-used you've become; even though there was no ill-intent, it was an extension of my action that led to this, so I must claim some portion of responsibility for the reactions. Do you have something in mind?"

Mordokai's gaze ran over her form slowly, from feet to crown, taking in every detail, then slowly returning to her eyes.

"Yeah. Give me your name."

One of her eyebrows quirked up halfway, and there might have been a hint of rose at her cheeks - just as likely however the dim light and his injuries were imagining it.

"You can call me Kit."

to be continued

[mangosta71]

I wish I could have found inspiration this week, since it was slow at work and I actually had time... *sigh*

I'm really enjoying the RM stuff, though.

As an aside, apparently you can hide links inside smileys.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Requiem Mortis, Part 5
(Mordokai, "Miss Construed", "Professor Masqued")

Spoiler

Show

Mordokai paused a moment, and quietly adjusted his shirt.

"What's it to you, anyhow," he thought back with a hint of indignation as he and his recent paramour headed down the next tunnel, toward the next crypt in the series.

"Aren't we the bold little cockerel while we're floating on tantric tides. I am of a mind t-." Mid-sentance she was cut off by an unusual buzzing, and a sudden spiking pain in the back of his head and his right wrist. He ground his teeth against one another, eyes watering. At the same time, "Miss Construed" turned sharply to regard him.

"You're already copper-marked?!" she spat out through clenched teeth, hands going up to rub her temples.

As she did so, the air around Mordokai grew thick and humid; a grasping gauntlet of squelching wetness that seemed to hold his neck like a vise and then slithered down along his body. Under different circumstances, he would have considered it quite erotic; sadly, right now it felt more like spending too many hours in the Kaydees during high summer with the rain always threatening to break, but never doing so. As the liquid sensation ran over his right hand, he screamed as the pain became suddenly his entire world; the sensation overwhelming his nerves - he collapsed to the floor twitching, unseeing, unaware of anything but the sudden alarm scream of crippling pain that shot back and forth between his hand and his head. He could not, thereby, see or smell the sudden smouldering of the flesh of his right wrist, nor the pulsing cherry-red metal imbedded within it that was the cause of his agony. Pulse raced, adrenaline coursed through his body as his glands engaged full flight mode in a panicked bid to escape whatever was causing this agony.

And then ... it receded, seemed to fly out of him, leaving in his hand and mind phantom echoes. Screaming faded to a quiet groaning. His senses slowly reoriented themselves; the stink of sour fear-sweat and the scent of charred meat first, then more subtle ones. Androstenone. Faint alkalitics, similiar to ones used in temple to preserve older holy works. His eyes
slowly refocused, and he realized he was staring at the ceiling of a crypt; one decorated with a mural depicting an attractive older woman amidst a swarm of ravens. A ring of white gold, set with a bloodstone, adorned her left hand; she stood fore to the night sky; pale grasses bent beneath her unadorned feet, stuck at odd angles up between her toes.

For her part, "Miss Construed" quietly examined the still cooling hair-thin bit of copper on the floor where it landed. Even after the reaction and being yanked out of the meat of his wrist, it still was an amazing bit of craftsmanship; thin as a hair, about as long as the width of a pinky, ending in a fisher's barb. Unlike her own, this one was clearly meant not to be noticed even by the person it was set in.

"Wha ... what in the hells just happened," Mordokai rumbled, drawing a quick, sharp breath.

She picked up the tiny faux hair with a pair of lead tweezers, bringing it over in a way that kept it from touching anything living, since she still did not know exactly how it worked and how it had been deployed.

"Copper marks are ... highly conductive. This makes them useful for anchoring a variety of effects. However, it also makes them subject to feedback resonance, which is why most sensible people only bear one." Her lips pursed a moment, and his expression was a slow echo of her own.

"But ... I've never taken a mark aside from Happy's ana'cam silver before today," he replied with a puzzled expression. His unmarred hand came up to run through his hair, stopping where the fingertips brushed the fringe of the nickle-sized depression where the hairs crumbled like ash under even that light exploratory pressure.

"That," she replied in that sort of odd tone that Mordokai noticed she tended to slip into when lecturing, "is because the person who stuck this," gesturing with the tweezers, "in you underwent no small effort to avoid notice."

His eyes focused slowly, with some residual difficulty on the tiny, barely visible thing she held captive in the tweezers.

"Something to worry about once we're out of here," he growled, "and have time to investigate properly. So, have I earned the secret of what it is you're looking for down here yet?"

"Ahhh ... no. But, I think you certainly deserve something for how ill-used you've become; even though there was no ill-intent, it was an extension of my action that led to this, so I must claim some portion of responsibility for the reactions. Do you have something in mind?"

Mordokai's gaze ran over her form slowly, from feet to crown, taking in every detail, then slowly returning to her eyes.

"Yeah. Give me your name."

One of her eyebrows quirked up halfway, and there might have been a hint of rose at her cheeks - just as likely however the dim light and his injuries were imagining it.

"You can call me Kit."

to be continued

You know what I think of, well, basically everything you write, and that I consider this one of the best series in the thread, so . . .
General comments:
Style: darkly amazing, medium focus on emphasis on erotic language; quickly switching to vivid sensory overloading in rapid succession. Tactile, scent/touch, a hint of the aural and finally visual with a minority in scent and aural; I particularly like the 'echo - screams'. Very suggestive, with finesse in deployment of language. I'll have to put some possible hyperanalysis on that painting to see what kind of insane interpretations I can wiggle out of it.
But firstly: I SO CALLED THE CONDUCTIVITY!! And that means these anaca'm marks work through some kind of electrical pulse thingy unique to each pair. Lead, I think dulls conductivity, so the 'voltage' is live and dangerous even after removal from one of the 'sources'. Yes, hazy, but I last took a science class two years and four months ago and I was never any good with the electrical side of things; though I do know how to wire a plug.
Painting, painting, painting . . . As an overall impression it remind of Nordic/Christianity - the latter of the Renaissance and post - Renaissance up to the Pre - Raphaelites. Porbably because it's a ceiling mural (Michelangelo) and the attractive older woman could be any of the Pre - Raphaelites.
Colour scheme is pretty blatantly negative; connotations of death abound with the blood, deathly pale grass, night and ravens. Then again 'white gold' suggests purity, red can be victory or life, black in some mythologies and ancient cultures also meant fertility. So depending on whether or not it's your "traditional" view it's all bad. The alternative is all good. So the duality is very nice, fitting too that Mordokai should look up at something that is life/death after almost dying.
The pose of the woman seems proud, standing amidst death (ravens) in the dark; but ravens are, naturally tricksters in practically any culture so she could be Truth against Lies. Aaaand, as you seems fond of The Raven we musn't forget Lenore and the Raven. Woman and ravens also crop up quite often in Norse mythology so ravens could mean knowledge in which case the woman 'amidst' them could be scattering the truth and breaking it apart. The Mother of Lies.
I will be very surprised if the painting is ever referred to again, but if it is it'll probably be a very famous member or founder of the academy. Just nice to see what incidental symbolism can be found.
And for anyone who didn't know who the two Misses were before has now figured them out. Lovely way of doing it, Miss Construed is getting a cruuuuusssshhhh.
As ever: fantastic.

[Helgraf]

You know what I think of, well, basically everything you write, and that I consider this one of the best series in the thread, so . . .
General comments:
Style: darkly amazing, medium focus on emphasis on erotic language; quickly switching to vivid sensory overloading in rapid succession. Tactile, scent/touch, a hint of the aural and finally visual with a minority in scent and aural; I particularly like the 'echo - screams'. Very suggestive, with finesse in deployment of language. I'll have to put some possible hyperanalysis on that painting to see what kind of insane interpretations I can wiggle out of it.

I do so enjoy it when people speculate about the story elements - it lets me know they're really taking an interest. Silence is very much the writer's worst enemy; even hard criticism is generally better received.

But firstly: I SO CALLED THE CONDUCTIVITY!! And that means these ana'cam marks work through some kind of electrical pulse thingy unique to each pair. Lead, I think dulls conductivity, so the 'voltage' is live and dangerous even after removal from one of the 'sources'. Yes, hazy, but I last took a science class two years and four months ago and I was never any good with the electrical side of things; though I do know how to wire a plug.

There's actually a few references you noted that I used - for instance, copper is elemental water affinity; used in the description of what Kit did just before it ... went bad.

The issue of whether or not it was still 'live' was unclear, so Kit, being in some senses a cautious lady, used tools she had available to minimize possible risk.

Finally, different metals, as one might logically conclude, will have different properties, making them more or less appropriate for different purposes. It is likely, for example, that the silver thorn functions significantly differently than either copper plug.

Painting, painting, painting . . . As an overall impression it remind of Nordic/Christianity - the latter of the Renaissance and post - Renaissance up to the Pre - Raphaelites. Porbably because it's a ceiling mural (Michelangelo) and the attractive older woman could be any of the Pre - Raphaelites. Colour scheme is pretty blatantly negative; connotations of death abound with the blood, deathly pale grass, night and ravens. Then again 'white gold' suggests purity, red can be victory or life, black in some mythologies and ancient cultures also meant fertility. So depending on whether or not it's your "traditional" view it's all bad. The alternative is all good. So the duality is very nice, fitting too that Mordokai should look up at something that is life/death after almost dying.

Okay, I was definitely going for a very specific idea here, but I'll cotton up that in this case, I didn't do color research, so I'm glad that by happenstance it worked out more or less just right.

The pose of the woman seems proud, standing amidst death (ravens) in the dark; but ravens are, naturally tricksters in practically any culture so she could be Truth against Lies. Aaaand, as you seems fond of The Raven we musn't forget Lenore and the Raven. Woman and ravens also crop up quite often in Norse mythology so ravens could mean knowledge in which case the woman 'amidst' them could be scattering the truth and breaking it apart. The Mother of Lies. I will be very surprised if the painting is ever referred to again, but if it is it'll probably be a very famous member or founder of the academy. Just nice to see what incidental symbolism can be found.

There is something, I'm not sure if it's irony or some other literary device at work here, and it's thick and it amuses me terribly.

And for anyone who didn't know who the two Misses were before has now figured them out. Lovely way of doing it, Miss Construed is getting a cruuuuusssshhhh.
As ever: fantastic.

Oh, well, we have a formal name for "Miss Construed" - that being Kit. But I think "Professor Masqued" has not been formally revealed yet. There's more to most of the cast than is immediately obvious - and that includes Mordokai.

Character Notes have been updated again (albiet briefly)


Writing Project Log
1. Mad Season Act II, scene 3
2. Requiem Mortis - cryptic convolutions Finished Part 5
3. Dead Air
4. Fic promised for Kara's pic here Finished

[Dallas-Dakota]

Writing Project Log
1. Mad Season Act II, scene 3 - I should really just start writing it now.
2. Requiem Mortis - cryptic convolutions Finished Part 5
3. Dead Air - Will come after Mad Season Act II - Secne 3
4. Fic promised for Kara's pic here Finished

Don't you agree?

[Helgraf]

Don't you agree?

What makes you think I'm not working on it, mmm?

[Dallas-Dakota]

The fact that you're posting here without posting MS AII - Scene 3? Hmm...

[CurlyKitGirl]

I do so enjoy it when people speculate about the story elements - it lets me know they're really taking an interest. Silence is very much the writer's worst enemy; even hard criticism is generally better received.

As an English student I'm more than happy to devote otherwise wasted minutes to analysis, overanalysis, hyperanalysis and paranoid analysis.

:There's actually a few references you noted that I used - for instance, copper is elemental water affinity; used in the description of what Kit did just before it ... went bad.

I only remember that I called the conductivity.

:The issue of whether or not it was still 'live' was unclear, so Kit, being in some senses a cautious lady, used tools she had available to minimize possible risk.

Finally, different metals, as one might logically conclude, will have different properties, making them more or less appropriate for different purposes. It is likely, for example, that the silver thorn functions significantly differently than either copper plug.

Caution rocks. I'm glad Kit was cautious. I shall devote some time to the investigation of silver, and thorns, soon.

:Okay, I was definitely going for a very specific idea here, but I'll cotton up that in this case, I didn't do color research, so I'm glad that by happenstance it worked out more or less just right.

. . .

There is something, I'm not sure if it's irony or some other literary device at work here, and it's thick and it amuses me terribly.

I'm just plain awesome like that.
And generally people instinctively know the colours, so they'll use them to get what they mean across. I do research because of other interpretations.
I can't wait to see what great irony I've noticed in this painting which'll become apparent later on. This intrigues me, and it'd better amuse me too!

:Oh, well, we have a formal name for "Miss Construed" - that being Kit. But I think "Professor Masqued" has not been formally revealed yet. There's more to most of the cast than is immediately obvious - and that includes Mordokai.

You know what I mean. And it's always good for multiple angles to characters. Makes them more 3D and real.

Previously:

Eldritch Abominations and Eldritch Relations Part One
Eldritch Abominations and Eldritch Relations Part Two

And now:

Eldritch Abominations and Eldritch Relations Part Three

Spoiler

Show

I fear the colour red now, because of that door all reds from the terrific cherry red to crimson to the palest red imaginable, a faint blush. All these send my fragile mind, a mind which barely clings to sanity, wheeling unstopping into the abyss of the world where the Crawling Chaos capers to the tune of his two amorphous pipers.
My hands are quivering at even the thought of further writing down my experiences; I must pause once more to recollect myself. I do not wish to forget myself. I mustn't. Because then the sight that I saw, it would destroy the tatters of my mind.
I am Damned for what I witnessed - no! took part in! I aided the summoning of the Unspeakable One known as Rabbithulu. My only chance at redemption; of not being condemned to the Ninth Circle of traitors is to finish this 'script to warn the world of the two young women who will bring about a great doom to this world.
It was early in the morning; the sky becoming the green tinted blue that heralded the coming of the dawn when we were shown to our dormitories and told to sleep for the rituals would commence in the afternoon. My nerves were stretched far beyond what I would now deem nature ever intended. But, as always when young, I believed myself to be far stronger in temperament and constitution than I was. Oh! that I would still feel as young as I am! But I have ruined myself. I cannot help but think that my compulsion, my obsession of just a few short months ago was inspired by something greater. But was it the greater good? God, I hope so.
My sleep was unsettled; the walls shrieked and scrabbled with phantom rats, the sun slid insidiously betwixt the shutters streaking sickly white across the whole room. My dreams were nightmares. Of what I have endured, but cannot write of; and of what was to come. While around me the cultists – upright, cheerful and ordinary, completely against what I had expected - babbled happily to one another with their flawed theories. Their innocent evil in turn beguiled and repelled me. Some, doubtless, knew the full truth, but carried along this mummer’s play with full delight.
We few who slept through the day were roused by the toll of a bell, calling us for a meal. I ate like an automaton, not tasting the delicious looking meal laid before us on old and chipped plates with smudged designs on them. How odd it is that I focus on the minutiae like this, my mind seems to avert from the most significant occurrences. The subconscious is more powerful than I had thought. Unlike what I had expected, this malign cult was not sombre or any more secretive than an ordinary gathering of internet folk; nor were they ominous in their attitudes. In fact, as we waited for the leader of the cult the atmosphere was busily quiet. We would not have looked out of place in a park or shopping centre.
The silent leader stood then and spoke. It was a clear, yet sibilant voice; clearly the man had a tremendous lisp, it was nearly sinister in a comical fashion. “We shall go down to the basement and then through the door.” Ren Graf then sat down and resumed his typical silence. This scrap of information left me fitfully disturbed, for it was my perception that we would depart shortly, yet we waited a further two hours in the dimly lit room and it’s overly soft seats. During those last few hours I examined the room and found the wallpaper to be hideously fascinating. There were two individual main patterns, one of a lighter yellow than the other, and they seemed to wind into one another and devour each other making eyes and baleful frowning eyebrows.
If I tilted my head slightly I could pretend that it was a face, one that gazed unflinchingly upon the small joys and the greater evils committed in the House, the wallpaper must have gone insane many decades ago; that was why it was frowning hatefully at me. Me, who knew what I was doing, and cared, but not enough to stop it. One of the leaders of
I am a monster! How could I have participated in the summoning!? I should have killed them all while they slept or ate! I would have condemned myself to Hell, but the rest would be saved! I would have save them! A shameful creature I am. Weak, spineless, lured into my deeds through good intentions and the words of the vile Koorilithulu!! I am not to blame! I’m not! Mother, I’m not bad, I promise! and so I arrived in the basement, trailing reluctantly behind the rest and clinging frightfully to the wall for the staircase lacked a railing and the stairs seemed to . . . move oddly under the feet. As if they were rolling from side to side. The basement was vast, much larger than the House that perched uneasily above the cavern it rested on. I could hardly see the farthest end, but that was of no consequence because of the enormous hole in the wall leading deeper into the heart of darkness.
It was claustrophobic, dry and slightly dusty; so hard to breathe and I kept gagging on the drifting dust that misted up the lights. I know not how far we walked, just that it seemed an age, but a minute. Or it seemed but a moment, but was an age.
It is . . . hard to say. We walked and I saw and what I saw was strange. As if I saw life through three shades of reality. Around me palely amorphous shapes passed through everything astringently. They, the things, they moved with bitterness and I tasted it. I should not have been able to! Noone else saw them, or if they did it mattered not. My focus on these preternatural things flashed on and off; repeatedly starting me into panic.
Time too, seemed immaterial as sickly shades of monstrously malformed beings shuffled sullenly out of the light into smaller, dimmer passages. I saw predatory eyes gleam, the shadows of a low, jutting proto – human forehead. Wet grunting, slobbering shuddered out around us and we started. At least, the newer of us, the elders seemed barely to give a glance at the things so dreadfully placed out of time. I think, perhaps, that they were a race of beasts and humans that, long in their worshipping of the two Lost Ones, never advanced and devoted themselves – if such insensible things can be said to devote attention to anything that isn’t base – to remaining frozen against all advancement and betterment. A vision of a bestial past. The final view, the most dreadful, was not seen, nor felt, but heard.
It hummed through my being, vibrating my bones and muscles. A strange pounding rhythm, similar to the heartbeat, but arrhythmic. Whines and strange animal screams pierced through the quiet as we approached the final room. It spoke down to my most primal beliefs, insisted that I give up all thought and just plunge into baseness. It was so familiar and I still know not why.
She was there. Koorilithulu. Leaning against a smooth wall exuding a strange aura. Expectancy and almost – if She were human, or even a natural being I would call it happiness. There were two other doors in the room, one small and insignificant. The other more foreboding and eldritch.
We bowed before Her and She nodded. We did nothing, but it seemed as if we had.
And She spake, looking at us all with her frozen eyes, "I have seen and written Gilgamesh; Achilles; Hektor; Herakles; Aeneas; Beowulf; Roland; Arthur and Launcelot and Gawain; all whom you hold high as heroes, doers of greatness, forces that stand against the oncoming storm that I represent. These men are nothing.
"I am Koorilithulu. My hunger is unending. My thirst unquenchable. I have destroyed armies and kingdoms, entire civilisations and worlds have crumbled at my merest exertion of my abilities.
"I am thought and speech. None of ever imprisoned me against my will. None have ever defeated me unless I willed it.
"It is only to Rabbithulu that I will admit defeat. She has tamed me.
"And now she begins to awake.
"She is darkness beyond the blackest pitch; she is the seed of chaos from which all others bloom. She is complete and utter madness.
"And her eyes are opening.
"She is all that is good - utterly perverted beyond the most fevered imaginings of an insane man. She is gloriously, brilliantly terrible and beautiful.
"Rejoice in what you have done. For we walk in eternity." Her eyes widened impossibly; but then, She is not human, I could see vast expanses of snowy white liberally laced with bloody veins all around the frozen pit of her irises. Koorilithulu span to look at the door. In a murmur that nonetheless reverberated around the world she said only three words, and those words were filled with awe, reverence, and something unimaginable. The words "She is here." rasped into the dead silence. And my heart seized in my chest.
The door opened without ceremony.
Rabbithulu stepped into the room, just at the edge of torchlight, She too, was a slight young woman with long brown hair. She stretched and yawned. Quite possibly the most unnerving thing of all, it was catlike and nonchalant. Then She looked around, Her eyes burning with a fever that matched the cold chasm of Koorilithulu’s eyes. And dismissed us with that one glance. ”So you found out then? The secret.”
”No fool am I, for I am knowledge; I just had to wait, and then decide when to awaken you.”
”Why now?”
”’Tis your birthday and I figured out the riddle.” The two dark being grinned at one another. ”That is not dead which can eternal lie - ”
” – And in strange aeons, even death may die.”
”So I got you your birthday present. You really were incredibly cryptic. You wanted dead musicians. The best. So many hints and clues scattered over endless millennia and countless books. Best. Scavenger. Hunt. Ever.” What? My mind couldn’t comprehend. We had, we had. Humanity was to be destroyed all for the sake of a game!! And Rabbithulu wanted to eat the souls – or bodies? - of dead musicians? And for what purpose? This dark and ancient cult brought to light and waking the dread Rabbithulu . . . for a birthday?
Rabbithulu bounced up and down like a child before kissing Koorilithulu on the mouth! I knew the two Lost Ones were depraved and begat depravity! But this, never had I imagined such a thing.
Pretty hot.
But a symbol of their unnatural status!
Yet, there was something else that disturbed me. An edge to the air, one honouring a promise of terror and death. I began to leave, I cherished my life then, now I care not, then I did. As the two dread ones went to the other door, it swung open before them, and the ever present noise . . . became clear.
”THE BEATLES!! The complete set! And Bowie! And Queen! That one’s more for you isn’t it?”
”Deny that Freddie is a god.” A pause. !You can’t, can you? After you my love.” I fled.
Behind me there was a tumultuous chorus of screams and gurgling and wet slaps as things hit the walls. My back was spattered with gore even though I was several hundred yards up the tunnel and to what little salvation I may yet attain.
All dead, all dead.
I live, and seek to spread the word, I am not insane, unsettled or prone to hallucinations; but they keep me here. The two Found Ones know about me, I am sure of it, they looked at me once, knowingly. They will get me. I must leave. Flee. Make my escape. I don’t wish to be lost, I only wish death.
The radio, they can hear me through the radio, and I them. They’re playing Hide and Seek with me. And when the Hider is no more they will play with the rest.
They come. And we do nothing.

[Helgraf]

I'm just plain awesome like that. And generally people instinctively know the colours, so they'll use them to get what they mean across. I do research because of other interpretations. I can't wait to see what great irony I've noticed in this painting which'll become apparent later on. This intrigues me, and it'd better amuse me too!

My, haven't we become demanding.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Koorli: Best birthday ever.
And it totally is hot.

I laughed, I was intrigued.

If only Coidzor had known what he started when he made such a small off hand comment

[Destro_Yersul]

Right. Should be working on SotR, but I decided to do this instead because that just isn't flowing right now. Thusly, I shall be pulling out all the random, nonsensical, innuendo-filled stops for this one. Hope you all enjoy the silly.

It's So Easy Being Evil
Mangosta/Rabbit

Spoiler

Show

Mangosta sat on his Throne of Devious Villainy, which he had hand carved himself from the bones of innocents and babies. And possibly innocent babies. Because some of them are evil, but he didn't use those ones.

The Throne was situated at the exact center of the Volcano mountain superbase of doom, surrounded by finely crafted defenses of the darkest steel and shiniest chrome. Computer screens lined the interior of the entire hollow mountain. Each one showed a different camera, facing a different direction, in a different part of the base.

Mangosta was currently watching the one placed on the inside of the locker rooms used by the female minions.

So distracted was he, in fact, that he didn't notice a decidedly non-minion person walking down hallway 8-D. Rabbit stepped lightly over a tripwire laser and ducked under the holes in the walls designed to fire highly venomous snakes at intruders.

The next doorway slid open, and she found herself within the cavernous space that was Mangosta's throne room. So. She said, taking a few steps closer to the Throne. Looks like you're still trying to compensate for something.

Not at all, my dear Rabbit. The Throne swiveled, revealing Mangosta in all his tophat-wearing, fluffy-white-cat-stroking glory. He adjusted his monocle and leaned forward. If I were compensating, I would have needed a much larger volcano. As it stands, the size is just about right.

Really? She raised an incredulous eyebrow and smiled. I suppose then, that one could say you live up to the standards set by your lair.

That caused the villain to laugh. Not maniacal laughter, no, he saved that for meddling heroes who he had already tied up and put in elaborate death traps. You haven't changed a bit. Well, except that I heard you'd traded in your villainess' stars for a hero cape. That true, then? Are you here to thwart me?

Oh, I was. But I can see now that I just don't have a good enough handle on the situation. Rabbit continued smiling. She slipped into her old seductress role so smoothly. A casual step forward, weight put on one side.

But no doubt that could be changed easily enough. I seem to remember you having a bit of a knack for getting a handle on things.

Old habits do die hard, don't they? I suppose I could be evil again. But you'd have to make it worth my while. This hero thing pays quite well, and I don't mean just money.

My dear, consider it done. Mangosta rose from his chair, the white cat taking his place. Shall I show you around the base? To my quarters, perhaps? I have a very nice bottle of wine set aside for just such an occasion.

Please do. I believe there was some thwarting to be done. And Mangosta, dear... Rabbit's smile was replaced by a grin. I can thwart you all night long.

Dear god. What have I created?

[RabbitHoleLost]

xD
"I can thwart you all night long."

Indeed.
I could.