I Wrote A Short Story!
I wrote this thing up earlier tonight on a whim, largely because I suddenly had the idea to and had to do it. Cross-posted it on dA (hey, its an easy place to keep updated), but I figured I'd put it here, too... BEHIND A CUT.
“And if I don’t?”
The words felt hollow in my throat, empty as they left my lips. I could guess what he was going to say before he said it. They always said the same things, and I was getting pretty tired of the dramatic posturing. The locale was a point in their favor at least -- the view from the top of the wind-swept mesa was enrapturing, right up until they blew most of the cliff face up in an effort to make this as quick as possible. I didn’t let them.
“Then we will be forced to destroy you,” he said, raising his sword threateningly. The young man was about as cookie-cutter as you could imagine: hair the color of the sky that had clearly spent too much time exposed to high winds, impractically-piecemeal armor, a sword he could barely hold in both hands, nevermind swing... and friends that included, of course, the girl with the staff and the fiery demeanor, and the squat, fuzzy thing that I could have sworn I ordered exterminated months ago.
I sighed inwardly and put a scowl on my face. It was all I could do to not groan at the stereotype playing against itself. Well, best keep up appearances.
“Fools!” I declared, throwing back my incredibly over-designed cloak. The wind caught the black material, sending it flapping behind me as the wind suddenly howled across the mesa. It was perfectly timed, of course; the product of a trick I learned early on, and one I have used too many times to count. “Do you truly believe you can stand against my power?”
I extended my left hand forward, palm up and fingers splayed, and then clenched it into a fist. My right hand slipped to my belt and to the bag I kept tucked behind me, fingers dipping into it and hooking on the hoop of something metal inside. Picking up that bag during the last run made this part so much easier. I tugged it out, the object’s weight and size much greater than the tiny, easily-concealed pouch could have possibly borne. Then, with the necessary flare -- a roll of my wrist and a step back, a turn of the hips, a cocky, superior grin at the precise moment -- I held it before me.
I almost -- almost!! -- gasped in time with the three of them, just to see the look on their faces.
“The Ring of Thraxis! But -- but we destroyed it!” cried the young hero’s equally-young maiden (ha, doubtful) companion, hands flying to her mouth, her staff held in the crook of her arm. It never ceased to amaze me that they had the dexterity to do that while being genuinely shocked at the same time. I remember when one of them dropped it and had to send her cutpurse of a brother down to get it. The thought brings a smile to my face. Whoops -- I’d better act fast.
I turned the smile into a wicked grin and added a laugh for effect. “Ha ha ha haaa!” Drawing out the last part of the laugh is key. Don’t forget. “Foolish child! I had ample opportunity to have my agent switch it with a fake during your journey here. You should not trust so easily...” I turned my left hand, fingers and thumb poised. This was the part I always hated. Sometimes it was unnecessary; the loyalty that they needed would already be ingrained, and it would just take a catalyst to temper that. Of course, when it wasn’t, somewhat drastic measures had to be undertaken. It usually worked out in the end, but when it didn’t...
Well, things got awfully grim.
I snapped my fingers. A young man, hardly more than a boy, materialized to my left. He stepped forward, looking at the ground with an expression of shame on his face. He reminded me of an urchin boy from a few old books of similar themes I’ve read in my travels. My eyes flicked to the boy and then to the three others, a carefully calculated look of smug satisfaction on my face. I would not be lying if I said that the second gasp was not at all unexpected.
The hero of the day, the swordsman before me, lowered his sword. The fuzzy thing next to him stepped forward, voice squeaking in a manner I’m sure someone, somewhere, found incredibly endearing. “Bowen,” it said. “How could you...?!”
They began to banter among themselves, momentarily forgetting my presence. I only remember the general gist of the words. They were, of course, upset at their friend’s two-faced behavior, and trying to get through to him that this was not the correct course of action. I felt the tension leaving my shoulders as their familiar banter flowed easily in one ear and out the other. They weren’t going to kill him for it -- far from it. It sounded like, based on how they were speaking...
Well, that I should actually get ready for one of the downsides of my job.
I felt the cold blade of the knife slide into my side, catching my shirt beneath the lightweight body armor and tearing through it. I staggered, falling to one knee as the urchin darted away to rejoin his friends. They shouted something about friendship prevailing; I myself instead bit down on my false tooth, feeling the delightful cold of a powerful painkiller slide down to the burning agony that is the horrible knife-wound in my side.
“Argh! Curse your sudden yet inevitable betrayal,” I yelled. I was absolutely certain none of them got the joke. I brandished the artifact in my right hand, the jewel in the big loop glowing menacingly and making the stars above shine in a mirror of its eerie luminescence. “Fine, then! Face your doom!”
The thing about these artifacts of magnificent, legendary power is that they inevitably just act like a huge magical battery. The form of the creature or event that gets called down is based entirely on the wielder. Because of my years of experience with this sort of thing, I could more or less shape it how I wanted. I decided to go with the giant draconic monster template, adding an extra set of legs and a second head for good measure. I threw a pair of feathered wings on the back, and some tentacles too, just for good measure. You never know when something will be too plain for a particular group of would-be saviors of the world.
The battle went about as well as could be expected. I might have overestimated their strength; they were on the ropes once or twice, but then they figured out the flaw that I had clearly overlooked when summoning this creature and surely had not cleverly engineered right then and there. They managed to fell the conjured creature right before the spunky girl with the staff could get her teeth emancipated by the surface of the mesa (courtesy of the extraneous tentacles, I might add). The timing was good. I stepped up to the proverbial plate.
“Hmph. You may have defeated that creature, but you cannot stop me. Not now, at the height of my power! Now, behold -- YOUR DOOM!” I raised the circle of metal over my head again, the jewel gleaming. Now, if I give him just a second...
The swordsman’s blade parted the ancient artifact’s metallic tines like a particularly sharp knife slicing off a piece of cheese. I watched the edge fly through the middle of the innermost ring, crossing to the other side. It’s a little off, though. I twist the ring imperceptibly slightly, and when the blade exits the other side, it clips the glowing gem at the same time. A crack forms along it. I jerk backwards, letting the pieces fall to the ground.
“What?! Do you know what you have done?! No! No!!” I took a step back, lifting another object from the same concealed pouch. I held the stone in my hand tightly, ready for the next part. “NO--!!”
The gem went up in a particularly spectacular fashion, releasing the energy I’d been pouring into it since they started the fight. In hindsight, I think I’m awfully proud of the fireworks on that one. The shockwave hurled me off the mesa as the side I was standing on collapsed, sending me disappearing into the darkness, presumably to fall on the darkened rocks below. The heroes, it seemed, were victorious.
I decided dying wasn’t really in the cards. It never is. The stone in my hand crumbled to dust, opening a portal beneath me and sending me skipping across the desert sands some distance away. The landing was undignified and rather messy, but survivable. I made a note to make sure the next time I made one of those, it included a feather-light landing.
I stood up, looking up at the night sky overhead. I could dimly make out the heroes’ airship taking to the skies, carrying them away from the still-detonating magical cascade on the mesa. The temple below it tilted and slid into the sands, collapsing with secondary explosions even I didn’t predict. I suppose you see something new every day, even in this line of work.
I brushed sand off my shoulder and removed the over-designed cloak and armor, letting them drop to the sand. From that ever-useful pouch I drew my list, crossing off this world with a sense of mild satisfaction. The next seemed pretty similar, but they all blend together after a while. Still, the completion of a job in this line of work is its own reward.
Let them think the evil overlord is dead. I gave them the face they needed, the threat that the entire planet had to have to stand together. They’ve already done the easy part of uniting the world; now we’ll see if they can hold it. If they can’t, well...I can always get a new cloak.
“And if I don’t?”
The words felt hollow in my throat, empty as they left my lips. I could guess what he was going to say before he said it. They always said the same things, and I was getting pretty tired of the dramatic posturing. The locale was a point in their favor at least -- the view from the top of the wind-swept mesa was enrapturing, right up until they blew most of the cliff face up in an effort to make this as quick as possible. I didn’t let them.
“Then we will be forced to destroy you,” he said, raising his sword threateningly. The young man was about as cookie-cutter as you could imagine: hair the color of the sky that had clearly spent too much time exposed to high winds, impractically-piecemeal armor, a sword he could barely hold in both hands, nevermind swing... and friends that included, of course, the girl with the staff and the fiery demeanor, and the squat, fuzzy thing that I could have sworn I ordered exterminated months ago.
I sighed inwardly and put a scowl on my face. It was all I could do to not groan at the stereotype playing against itself. Well, best keep up appearances.
“Fools!” I declared, throwing back my incredibly over-designed cloak. The wind caught the black material, sending it flapping behind me as the wind suddenly howled across the mesa. It was perfectly timed, of course; the product of a trick I learned early on, and one I have used too many times to count. “Do you truly believe you can stand against my power?”
I extended my left hand forward, palm up and fingers splayed, and then clenched it into a fist. My right hand slipped to my belt and to the bag I kept tucked behind me, fingers dipping into it and hooking on the hoop of something metal inside. Picking up that bag during the last run made this part so much easier. I tugged it out, the object’s weight and size much greater than the tiny, easily-concealed pouch could have possibly borne. Then, with the necessary flare -- a roll of my wrist and a step back, a turn of the hips, a cocky, superior grin at the precise moment -- I held it before me.
I almost -- almost!! -- gasped in time with the three of them, just to see the look on their faces.
“The Ring of Thraxis! But -- but we destroyed it!” cried the young hero’s equally-young maiden (ha, doubtful) companion, hands flying to her mouth, her staff held in the crook of her arm. It never ceased to amaze me that they had the dexterity to do that while being genuinely shocked at the same time. I remember when one of them dropped it and had to send her cutpurse of a brother down to get it. The thought brings a smile to my face. Whoops -- I’d better act fast.
I turned the smile into a wicked grin and added a laugh for effect. “Ha ha ha haaa!” Drawing out the last part of the laugh is key. Don’t forget. “Foolish child! I had ample opportunity to have my agent switch it with a fake during your journey here. You should not trust so easily...” I turned my left hand, fingers and thumb poised. This was the part I always hated. Sometimes it was unnecessary; the loyalty that they needed would already be ingrained, and it would just take a catalyst to temper that. Of course, when it wasn’t, somewhat drastic measures had to be undertaken. It usually worked out in the end, but when it didn’t...
Well, things got awfully grim.
I snapped my fingers. A young man, hardly more than a boy, materialized to my left. He stepped forward, looking at the ground with an expression of shame on his face. He reminded me of an urchin boy from a few old books of similar themes I’ve read in my travels. My eyes flicked to the boy and then to the three others, a carefully calculated look of smug satisfaction on my face. I would not be lying if I said that the second gasp was not at all unexpected.
The hero of the day, the swordsman before me, lowered his sword. The fuzzy thing next to him stepped forward, voice squeaking in a manner I’m sure someone, somewhere, found incredibly endearing. “Bowen,” it said. “How could you...?!”
They began to banter among themselves, momentarily forgetting my presence. I only remember the general gist of the words. They were, of course, upset at their friend’s two-faced behavior, and trying to get through to him that this was not the correct course of action. I felt the tension leaving my shoulders as their familiar banter flowed easily in one ear and out the other. They weren’t going to kill him for it -- far from it. It sounded like, based on how they were speaking...
Well, that I should actually get ready for one of the downsides of my job.
I felt the cold blade of the knife slide into my side, catching my shirt beneath the lightweight body armor and tearing through it. I staggered, falling to one knee as the urchin darted away to rejoin his friends. They shouted something about friendship prevailing; I myself instead bit down on my false tooth, feeling the delightful cold of a powerful painkiller slide down to the burning agony that is the horrible knife-wound in my side.
“Argh! Curse your sudden yet inevitable betrayal,” I yelled. I was absolutely certain none of them got the joke. I brandished the artifact in my right hand, the jewel in the big loop glowing menacingly and making the stars above shine in a mirror of its eerie luminescence. “Fine, then! Face your doom!”
The thing about these artifacts of magnificent, legendary power is that they inevitably just act like a huge magical battery. The form of the creature or event that gets called down is based entirely on the wielder. Because of my years of experience with this sort of thing, I could more or less shape it how I wanted. I decided to go with the giant draconic monster template, adding an extra set of legs and a second head for good measure. I threw a pair of feathered wings on the back, and some tentacles too, just for good measure. You never know when something will be too plain for a particular group of would-be saviors of the world.
The battle went about as well as could be expected. I might have overestimated their strength; they were on the ropes once or twice, but then they figured out the flaw that I had clearly overlooked when summoning this creature and surely had not cleverly engineered right then and there. They managed to fell the conjured creature right before the spunky girl with the staff could get her teeth emancipated by the surface of the mesa (courtesy of the extraneous tentacles, I might add). The timing was good. I stepped up to the proverbial plate.
“Hmph. You may have defeated that creature, but you cannot stop me. Not now, at the height of my power! Now, behold -- YOUR DOOM!” I raised the circle of metal over my head again, the jewel gleaming. Now, if I give him just a second...
The swordsman’s blade parted the ancient artifact’s metallic tines like a particularly sharp knife slicing off a piece of cheese. I watched the edge fly through the middle of the innermost ring, crossing to the other side. It’s a little off, though. I twist the ring imperceptibly slightly, and when the blade exits the other side, it clips the glowing gem at the same time. A crack forms along it. I jerk backwards, letting the pieces fall to the ground.
“What?! Do you know what you have done?! No! No!!” I took a step back, lifting another object from the same concealed pouch. I held the stone in my hand tightly, ready for the next part. “NO--!!”
The gem went up in a particularly spectacular fashion, releasing the energy I’d been pouring into it since they started the fight. In hindsight, I think I’m awfully proud of the fireworks on that one. The shockwave hurled me off the mesa as the side I was standing on collapsed, sending me disappearing into the darkness, presumably to fall on the darkened rocks below. The heroes, it seemed, were victorious.
I decided dying wasn’t really in the cards. It never is. The stone in my hand crumbled to dust, opening a portal beneath me and sending me skipping across the desert sands some distance away. The landing was undignified and rather messy, but survivable. I made a note to make sure the next time I made one of those, it included a feather-light landing.
I stood up, looking up at the night sky overhead. I could dimly make out the heroes’ airship taking to the skies, carrying them away from the still-detonating magical cascade on the mesa. The temple below it tilted and slid into the sands, collapsing with secondary explosions even I didn’t predict. I suppose you see something new every day, even in this line of work.
I brushed sand off my shoulder and removed the over-designed cloak and armor, letting them drop to the sand. From that ever-useful pouch I drew my list, crossing off this world with a sense of mild satisfaction. The next seemed pretty similar, but they all blend together after a while. Still, the completion of a job in this line of work is its own reward.
Let them think the evil overlord is dead. I gave them the face they needed, the threat that the entire planet had to have to stand together. They’ve already done the easy part of uniting the world; now we’ll see if they can hold it. If they can’t, well...I can always get a new cloak.