Ch. 8 - The Death and Return of Jack of Fables
[The moment Jack woke up, somewhere out in the woods, his eyes shot open and he reached for his chest, expecting to find a sword sticking out of it. But there wasn't one. More than that, he could see that his fingers... well, he had fingers. No claws. He felt his face and the familiar stubble was there, as was his long hair, and he quickly determined he had a chest and a feet and his Happy Stick is there and not... scaly.
Whew. Load off his mind. It also proves that people really DO revive in Luceti. But he also knows that people LOSE things when they die. The first thing he does is find something sharp enough to cut himself on. He's pleased to see it quickly heal up, nearly instantly, as if the wound had never been there at all. He then finds a boulder and throws it, proving he is indeed super strong still. So he had his looks and power again... but what about his loot? He'd have to go back to the cave later and see if those bastards that killed him hadn't stolen it all.
... thought he wasn't sure if he should bother. Last thing he wanted to do was risk dragon-ing it up again.
So he takes a long, lonely hike to the village and returns home. He grabs a nice button up shirt, a black sports coat and slacks to toss on. So he'd died twice now. Neither time took. And he was looking as good as ever. Now just as long as he didn't turn into a dragon again, he was A-OK.
So the first thing he does is go to the journals.]
[Voice]
Looks like I'm back to the land of the living and I ain't a dragon anymore. How is it that death is the cure for so many afflictions? First order of business - any women out there wanting a roll in the hay? It's been months since I had any. We can make it as romantic as you like, suits me just fine.
Oh. Guess I owe an apology towards certain individuals for any injuries I may have caused during that scuffle. But in my defense? You guys killed me. So don't expect me to feel too guilty about that.
Thirdly... thirdly... I need some cigarettes and a beer. And some painkillers. I also think I've got on hell of a case of phantom limb going here after losing those extra wings... and the tail.
Oh yeah, anyone seen a tiny blue cow running around? I lost track of the thing a few weeks ago.
[Yeah, screw the journal, he's going to the bar to smoke and drink. If he can't have some sex, this will just have to do.]