All of these are mine. Permission is given happily to anyone who can make any use of them. I don't *think* I've tossed any of this up on the board before, but I can't be certain. Regardless, I wish you joy in it.
-------------
There's a They Might Be Giants song, that I feel really resonates with me. It's got this line....
"There's only one thing that I know how to do well, and I've often been told you should do whatever you know how to do well, and that's be you. Be what you're like. Be like yourself...."
Well, that's sort of the line. That's most of the line. Really, though, it starts a few notes earlier.
"Dark, Dark, Dark, Dark - There's only one thing that I know how to do well...."
--------------------
"Well, I did manage to get one spell to stick on him. It's a silly spell, but it might do some good."
"What spell was that, Giles?"
"The Madman's rant. For the duration, and it should last a good month, he'll be compelled to gloat maniacally, whenever he thinks he's won. It's not much, I admit."
"Before I Kill You, Mr. Bond?"
"I figured it couldn't hurt."
--------------------
"Uh... um... Excuse me? I think I can help. I'm good at... at stuff."
Diane looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Why are you here? He's dead. Can you help with dead?"
"Well...yeah, actually. That's the stuff I'm good at."
"Cedar ash."
"Cedar ash."
"Goat's blood."
"Goat's blood."
"Potpurri."
"..."
"Potpurri!"
"...potpurri?"
"Listen. He's a zombie. One way or the other, he's going to smell like dead things. Dead flowers smell a lot better than dead bodies. Now hand me the damn potpurri!
"Right. Got it. Potpurri."
"Silver dust."
"Silver dust."
"She's creepy."
"C'mon, man. Give her a break. She brought you back to life for crying out loud."
"No. She didn't bring me back to life. She raised me from the dead. There's a difference. You see, when someone brings you back to life, you end up, y'know, alive. I'm still dead. It's just a walking around kinda dead."
"So what's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? What's the big deal? I'm cold to the touch, I smell like potpurri, I've got a hole in my chest where my heart used to be, and I keep feeling like I should be shambling around mumbling about brains. It's a big deal."
"It's better than being totally dead, isn't it?"
"Sure. But she's still creepy."
-------------------
"The propehcies give us one month notice. We give you this book. You probably want to read it through once or twice before your alotted Becoming. You might not have much time afterwards."
"Rule 1: Any time that any one, mysterious or horrifying, says anything cryptic, write it down. Keep pen and paper with you at all times, just in case. They may be lying, but write it down, verbatim if you can."
-------------------
*Flashback*
"You *ARE* going to marry her, right?"
"Yes, grandmother."
"You *ARE* going to marry him, right?"
"Yes, grandmother."
The imposing little crone relaxed, and smiled beatifically.
"No harm done, then. Daniel - Fetch cousin Marco for me, would you please?"
She hopped off her thronelet and began puttering around the room, tending to her flowers while making cheerful noises.
the couple stayed cowering for a moment longer, then peered up in confusion. The girl was the first to find her voice.
"You seem so... well... unruffled, Grandmother."
"Well, Sylia, I suppose it is a little irregular, but we'll have you married within the week, so, really, its more a matter of the two of you taking the steps a little out of order than anything else. Well, that and the enraged duke, but angry nobility is nothing new. Anyway, it'll be a new story to write down in our little family history. Someday, one of the matriarchs who follow me will be in a situation almost, but not quite, as bad as this one, and be able to smile serenely and say something like 'Oh, well. We've lived through worse.' I enjoy being able to leave little gifts like that to my successors.
*end Flashback*
Sylia smiled serenely, with just a hint of wry. "Oh, well. We've lived through worse."
- then, a little later on, something very similar in tone, though different in most particulars, complete with its own flashback.
- then, a little later on, presented with yet another similar sort of situation
*Flashback...?*
*nope, nope, nope. Too much. end Flashback*
Sylia dropped her face into her hand, and shook her head ruefully.
"Never mind," she said. "We've lived through worse. Much worse, many times, in quick succession. Come on inside, and I'll do what I can to mend the situation."
--------------------
Okay, here's the plan. We're both of us going to go down into the cellar and check this out, and I'm going to be absolutely terrified because I think I might have seen some incarnation of purest evil down there. You're going to humor me, and we're going to go down there, and I'm going to be wrong. I'm going to be very, very wrong, because there isn't and never has been, and never will be a creature like that in our basement. We're going to go over the place twice just to be sure. And then I'm going to feel very relieved, and more than a little silly, and we're going to leave the basement that doesn't have anything unusual in it, and we're going to come back up here where it is warm and well-lit and safe, and I'm going to express to you in no uncertain terms exactly how appreciative and thankful I am for you being so supportive. Do you think you can handle this plan?
-----------------------
Her daddy loved her more than anything else in the whole wide world. He loved her more than he'd loved her mother, and more than he'd loved her sister, and now he surely loved her more than he loved that tramp who had flounced into his life, doubtless intent on dragging as much money out of him as she could with her feminine wiles. Daddy loved her more. She knew he did. Now she just had to make sure he knew it too.
-----------------------
"So, finally you have been cornered, Templar Geath, and you stand at my mercy. What say you now?"
"I say this, fiend. I accuse you. I accuse you of murder and dark sorceries and theft by threat of force. By the ancient compact of my order, I accuse you. What say you?"
"I say nothing. What is there to say? You have no power here. You have no Order to rescue you, you have no country to care about your accusations, and you have no sword with which to wield your magics."
"The Order stands so long as one man stands willing to live and die by its principles. The country stands so long as one man upholds its law. I still serve both. As for the sword? Everyone always thought it a joke when I told them, but a Templar does not lie."
Geath reached behind him, then, and there was a strange and unpleasant sucking sound. For the first time in over a decade, he slouched, then, and fell into a new posture, not a proud knight, but a backalley duellist of the Twisting Demon school. The blade that his hand came back with shone bright and sharp, and danced with Templar magic.
"I really did have a sword stuck up my ass."
and Geath struck.
"I declare this place anathema. I have slain its Lord for deeds of darkness, and determined, as is my duty, that that which has been wrought here is tainted beyond repair. All who repent of their association this place, leave now. You have until dawn. For the rest, know that with the coming of the morn comes the storm. The Keepers of the Blade cry out for Justice, and the dead of Faranthus cry out for vengeance. There will be no mercy, and there will be no restraint. All will fall. In accordance with the Compact of 517, you have been warned. Let none claim that they were caught unaware."
"The Compact of 517? What does that mean?"
"That means we're leaving. A Templar does not lie, and a Templar does not quote irrelevant law. It's in their precepts. We're leaving -now-."
Quoruk dragged a little behind. "but what does it *mean*?"
"It means that the people who are here come morning won't be coming back. The Compact of 517 was the one about the destruction of souls."
-------------------
"Matt? I don't see any other elves. Usually there are at least a few. Where are all the elves?"
"Elves don't exist on my world. Don't worry about it, though. remember what I told you, and you'll be fine."
It looked like he'd been right. Their appearance had drawn a bit of interest, but not much, and not of the unpleasant variety. Now she was actually talking to strangers, and the advice he had given her ran through her head.
"Act like it's not a big deal." he'd said. "When they ask, answer honestly, and don't worry about the response."
...but the girl in front of her was talking.
"What's up with the ear thing, anyway?"
"I'm an elf. My ears have always been this length."
The girl blinked and shrugged. "Okay. Whatever floats your boat."
and the conversation went on like it was no big deal.
----------------
Three days after I was born, at nightfall, the members of my new-minted cult skulked over a fortuitously placed hill near my uncle's fortified keep, and into a disguised pit of ravenous, carnivorous mice. My uncle is fond of carnivorous mice. None of them can eat much in any one bite, you see, so whoever falls in gets bitten a great many times before they pass on to the next world, and thus beyond one Jacob Peterson's power to harm. Uncle Jake doesn't much care for people that mess with his family.
That was only the first trap, though. If they had turned back at that point, they would have lost only the first three, and might still be around. Unfortunately for the cult in question, it had acquired a very persuasive high priest, and they were willing to walk through hell itself for my greater glory. I am told that my uncle cried tears of joy when he realized. I think it was shortly after the punji stakes.
-------------------
Just as they were pulling in, readying themselves to charge the tower, a giant crack formed down the entire west side. It clamshelled open, leaving an entire wall missing. Loudspeakers crackled to life all over the tower, bringing the sounds of a choir, singing amplified hymns with a techno backbeat.
Two bright lights blazed forth from within the darkness of the tower, and a voice spoke, resounding with tremendous force, echoing from the mountains and the valleys, as if the earth itself had something to say.
"I LIVE. I LIVE AGAIN! KNOW THE PRICE OF YOUR BETRAYAL."
Two companies of demonlings and the entire Black Brotherhood disintegrated in a spray of ichor, gore, and shattered bone. The Regent's demonguard, thrice-blooded Dukes, died before they could raise their weapons. The Prince of Thorns died before he even knew he was under attack. Silver flashed upon the battlefield, too quick to follow, and where it flashed, the Horde simply ceased to be. Kyrak siphoned power ruthlessly off of his followers and poured it into his augmentation spells, desperately trying to reach a point where he could at least see his enemy. Finally, the blur became visible, and as soon as it did, he drained them all dry, sacrificing the lot of them in an instant. Hellish corpses dropped, synchronized, to the ground. Finally, then, the flashing silver death saw him, and turned, and smiled. Kyrak snarled in defiance and readied himself to die gloriously as a warmech in the shape of the Allfather came to do battle with him, and the mountainside rang with hymns of exultation.
(This scene, incidentally, was the result from adding together a technomage who was an expert at cybernetically rebuilding shattered creatures of magic, the broken remnants of the Allfather, and an effectively unlimited budget.)
--------------
"I see. Permit me a moment to restate, that I might ensure that no confusion lies between us. I now walk the world, a horrific parody of my prior self, because... you... goofed?"
"Well, seeing as you're spectral, you sorta float, rather than --"
"But apart from that?"
"Well, yeah."
"And there exists no great and terrible threat to counter, no holy quest with which to cleanse my unholy existance."
"Well, no."
"Ummm...so you're stuck here for a while?"
"Aye. Eternally, or until utterly destroyed."
"Well, you may as well try to make the best of it then, right?"
"Uh...have you ever heard the blessed word of Eru Illuvitar?"
-------------
There's a They Might Be Giants song, that I feel really resonates with me. It's got this line....
"There's only one thing that I know how to do well, and I've often been told you should do whatever you know how to do well, and that's be you. Be what you're like. Be like yourself...."
Well, that's sort of the line. That's most of the line. Really, though, it starts a few notes earlier.
"Dark, Dark, Dark, Dark - There's only one thing that I know how to do well...."
--------------------
"Well, I did manage to get one spell to stick on him. It's a silly spell, but it might do some good."
"What spell was that, Giles?"
"The Madman's rant. For the duration, and it should last a good month, he'll be compelled to gloat maniacally, whenever he thinks he's won. It's not much, I admit."
"Before I Kill You, Mr. Bond?"
"I figured it couldn't hurt."
--------------------
"Uh... um... Excuse me? I think I can help. I'm good at... at stuff."
Diane looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Why are you here? He's dead. Can you help with dead?"
"Well...yeah, actually. That's the stuff I'm good at."
"Cedar ash."
"Cedar ash."
"Goat's blood."
"Goat's blood."
"Potpurri."
"..."
"Potpurri!"
"...potpurri?"
"Listen. He's a zombie. One way or the other, he's going to smell like dead things. Dead flowers smell a lot better than dead bodies. Now hand me the damn potpurri!
"Right. Got it. Potpurri."
"Silver dust."
"Silver dust."
"She's creepy."
"C'mon, man. Give her a break. She brought you back to life for crying out loud."
"No. She didn't bring me back to life. She raised me from the dead. There's a difference. You see, when someone brings you back to life, you end up, y'know, alive. I'm still dead. It's just a walking around kinda dead."
"So what's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal? What's the big deal? I'm cold to the touch, I smell like potpurri, I've got a hole in my chest where my heart used to be, and I keep feeling like I should be shambling around mumbling about brains. It's a big deal."
"It's better than being totally dead, isn't it?"
"Sure. But she's still creepy."
-------------------
"The propehcies give us one month notice. We give you this book. You probably want to read it through once or twice before your alotted Becoming. You might not have much time afterwards."
"Rule 1: Any time that any one, mysterious or horrifying, says anything cryptic, write it down. Keep pen and paper with you at all times, just in case. They may be lying, but write it down, verbatim if you can."
-------------------
*Flashback*
"You *ARE* going to marry her, right?"
"Yes, grandmother."
"You *ARE* going to marry him, right?"
"Yes, grandmother."
The imposing little crone relaxed, and smiled beatifically.
"No harm done, then. Daniel - Fetch cousin Marco for me, would you please?"
She hopped off her thronelet and began puttering around the room, tending to her flowers while making cheerful noises.
the couple stayed cowering for a moment longer, then peered up in confusion. The girl was the first to find her voice.
"You seem so... well... unruffled, Grandmother."
"Well, Sylia, I suppose it is a little irregular, but we'll have you married within the week, so, really, its more a matter of the two of you taking the steps a little out of order than anything else. Well, that and the enraged duke, but angry nobility is nothing new. Anyway, it'll be a new story to write down in our little family history. Someday, one of the matriarchs who follow me will be in a situation almost, but not quite, as bad as this one, and be able to smile serenely and say something like 'Oh, well. We've lived through worse.' I enjoy being able to leave little gifts like that to my successors.
*end Flashback*
Sylia smiled serenely, with just a hint of wry. "Oh, well. We've lived through worse."
- then, a little later on, something very similar in tone, though different in most particulars, complete with its own flashback.
- then, a little later on, presented with yet another similar sort of situation
*Flashback...?*
*nope, nope, nope. Too much. end Flashback*
Sylia dropped her face into her hand, and shook her head ruefully.
"Never mind," she said. "We've lived through worse. Much worse, many times, in quick succession. Come on inside, and I'll do what I can to mend the situation."
--------------------
Okay, here's the plan. We're both of us going to go down into the cellar and check this out, and I'm going to be absolutely terrified because I think I might have seen some incarnation of purest evil down there. You're going to humor me, and we're going to go down there, and I'm going to be wrong. I'm going to be very, very wrong, because there isn't and never has been, and never will be a creature like that in our basement. We're going to go over the place twice just to be sure. And then I'm going to feel very relieved, and more than a little silly, and we're going to leave the basement that doesn't have anything unusual in it, and we're going to come back up here where it is warm and well-lit and safe, and I'm going to express to you in no uncertain terms exactly how appreciative and thankful I am for you being so supportive. Do you think you can handle this plan?
-----------------------
Her daddy loved her more than anything else in the whole wide world. He loved her more than he'd loved her mother, and more than he'd loved her sister, and now he surely loved her more than he loved that tramp who had flounced into his life, doubtless intent on dragging as much money out of him as she could with her feminine wiles. Daddy loved her more. She knew he did. Now she just had to make sure he knew it too.
-----------------------
"So, finally you have been cornered, Templar Geath, and you stand at my mercy. What say you now?"
"I say this, fiend. I accuse you. I accuse you of murder and dark sorceries and theft by threat of force. By the ancient compact of my order, I accuse you. What say you?"
"I say nothing. What is there to say? You have no power here. You have no Order to rescue you, you have no country to care about your accusations, and you have no sword with which to wield your magics."
"The Order stands so long as one man stands willing to live and die by its principles. The country stands so long as one man upholds its law. I still serve both. As for the sword? Everyone always thought it a joke when I told them, but a Templar does not lie."
Geath reached behind him, then, and there was a strange and unpleasant sucking sound. For the first time in over a decade, he slouched, then, and fell into a new posture, not a proud knight, but a backalley duellist of the Twisting Demon school. The blade that his hand came back with shone bright and sharp, and danced with Templar magic.
"I really did have a sword stuck up my ass."
and Geath struck.
"I declare this place anathema. I have slain its Lord for deeds of darkness, and determined, as is my duty, that that which has been wrought here is tainted beyond repair. All who repent of their association this place, leave now. You have until dawn. For the rest, know that with the coming of the morn comes the storm. The Keepers of the Blade cry out for Justice, and the dead of Faranthus cry out for vengeance. There will be no mercy, and there will be no restraint. All will fall. In accordance with the Compact of 517, you have been warned. Let none claim that they were caught unaware."
"The Compact of 517? What does that mean?"
"That means we're leaving. A Templar does not lie, and a Templar does not quote irrelevant law. It's in their precepts. We're leaving -now-."
Quoruk dragged a little behind. "but what does it *mean*?"
"It means that the people who are here come morning won't be coming back. The Compact of 517 was the one about the destruction of souls."
-------------------
"Matt? I don't see any other elves. Usually there are at least a few. Where are all the elves?"
"Elves don't exist on my world. Don't worry about it, though. remember what I told you, and you'll be fine."
It looked like he'd been right. Their appearance had drawn a bit of interest, but not much, and not of the unpleasant variety. Now she was actually talking to strangers, and the advice he had given her ran through her head.
"Act like it's not a big deal." he'd said. "When they ask, answer honestly, and don't worry about the response."
...but the girl in front of her was talking.
"What's up with the ear thing, anyway?"
"I'm an elf. My ears have always been this length."
The girl blinked and shrugged. "Okay. Whatever floats your boat."
and the conversation went on like it was no big deal.
----------------
Three days after I was born, at nightfall, the members of my new-minted cult skulked over a fortuitously placed hill near my uncle's fortified keep, and into a disguised pit of ravenous, carnivorous mice. My uncle is fond of carnivorous mice. None of them can eat much in any one bite, you see, so whoever falls in gets bitten a great many times before they pass on to the next world, and thus beyond one Jacob Peterson's power to harm. Uncle Jake doesn't much care for people that mess with his family.
That was only the first trap, though. If they had turned back at that point, they would have lost only the first three, and might still be around. Unfortunately for the cult in question, it had acquired a very persuasive high priest, and they were willing to walk through hell itself for my greater glory. I am told that my uncle cried tears of joy when he realized. I think it was shortly after the punji stakes.
-------------------
Just as they were pulling in, readying themselves to charge the tower, a giant crack formed down the entire west side. It clamshelled open, leaving an entire wall missing. Loudspeakers crackled to life all over the tower, bringing the sounds of a choir, singing amplified hymns with a techno backbeat.
Two bright lights blazed forth from within the darkness of the tower, and a voice spoke, resounding with tremendous force, echoing from the mountains and the valleys, as if the earth itself had something to say.
"I LIVE. I LIVE AGAIN! KNOW THE PRICE OF YOUR BETRAYAL."
Two companies of demonlings and the entire Black Brotherhood disintegrated in a spray of ichor, gore, and shattered bone. The Regent's demonguard, thrice-blooded Dukes, died before they could raise their weapons. The Prince of Thorns died before he even knew he was under attack. Silver flashed upon the battlefield, too quick to follow, and where it flashed, the Horde simply ceased to be. Kyrak siphoned power ruthlessly off of his followers and poured it into his augmentation spells, desperately trying to reach a point where he could at least see his enemy. Finally, the blur became visible, and as soon as it did, he drained them all dry, sacrificing the lot of them in an instant. Hellish corpses dropped, synchronized, to the ground. Finally, then, the flashing silver death saw him, and turned, and smiled. Kyrak snarled in defiance and readied himself to die gloriously as a warmech in the shape of the Allfather came to do battle with him, and the mountainside rang with hymns of exultation.
(This scene, incidentally, was the result from adding together a technomage who was an expert at cybernetically rebuilding shattered creatures of magic, the broken remnants of the Allfather, and an effectively unlimited budget.)
--------------
"I see. Permit me a moment to restate, that I might ensure that no confusion lies between us. I now walk the world, a horrific parody of my prior self, because... you... goofed?"
"Well, seeing as you're spectral, you sorta float, rather than --"
"But apart from that?"
"Well, yeah."
"And there exists no great and terrible threat to counter, no holy quest with which to cleanse my unholy existance."
"Well, no."
"Ummm...so you're stuck here for a while?"
"Aye. Eternally, or until utterly destroyed."
"Well, you may as well try to make the best of it then, right?"
"Uh...have you ever heard the blessed word of Eru Illuvitar?"