Little Experiment 3

[Under the moon]

Heh, heh. I thought that might get someone\'s attention. Thanks!

[[Oh just great. Like he didn't have an ego problem allready.]]

[40 pancakes]

((!! I just want to read your posts now, you can take over if you want... I still love reading it though ))

[Under the moon]

[[The writer sits at his desk, listening to the annoying loud fan and whirring noises coming from his crummy PC. Clicking on the PS forums link in his favorites, he is whisked rather slowly to the forums. He sees that there are new posts in the RP forum, his favorite. Probably the only one.  Indeed. He clicks on this thread and scrolls down. Oh crap.  I couldn?t agree more. It's your own fault, you know. Shut it.  Oh my, the great Moon is insulted, and all he can come up with is "shut it". It fails all reason why people still read your blithering ramblings. Why, if I where them?]]

Ruben slowly took his hands apart and placed them flat on the table. So she didn't kill him because she couldn't let him die?

[[I wasn't done insulting you. If you...]]

As near as he could figure, by what she had told him so far, she had been here in this mansion for nearly two years. Alone...

[[That is not funny. If you can't take criticism, then you shouldn't  be...]]

...with no more company than the occasional visit of a man -a dwarf, he should say- that she didn't seem to like all that much...

[[Fine. You want it that way, I'm out of here. The narrator storms across the imaginary room to slam the imaginary door behind it with a resounding imaginary bang. Finally. Now that he/it/whatever is gone, I can write in peace. I guess I can continue with this story, as it seems I have taken over anyhow. Sorry about that. Anyways, I said some action, so some action it will be. With no interruptions.]]

A few things clicked in his head. She didn't kill me because she needs me. He didn't know if that thought was frightening or not. That depended on what she needed him for. She had said something about information to that dwarf. But she also seemed to be flirting with him an awful lot...though that may have been just another ploy to get him to trust her. He raised his eyes back to her face, only to find her studying him, her eyes deep pools of endless amber. What does she want? Why would she risk her life to bring me?

"Do you..." Glyure's voice was oddly pensive as she interrupted his thoughs. She took a deep breath. "Do you find me attractive?"

Ruben was sure his jaw would have dropped if not for the fact that every muscle in his body froze in an instant. Do I? Glyure rolled her shoulders in what Ruben perceived as nervousness. The graceful movement shifted her whole body in a way that answered the question for him. Oh god yes. Finding that he could move again, he stood slowly, her eyes following his movements from her perch on the table. His heart pounded, feeling as if it should spring forth from his chest as he leaned forward. Glyure's lips parted as her face slowly filled his vision, her eyes drawing him in. He felt her breath on his face as those eyes closed, her chin tipping upward, her lips waiting, eager. His own eyes closed.

The door burst open, crashing against the wall.

[[Like, OH...MY...GOD. I almost fainted. That was like sooo awesome when they were going to kiss. You are like the most romantic guy. Who the hell are you!?  Me? I'm like your new narrator. The temp agency like sent me over when they like heard what happened. They like thought you could use like someone nicer. The writer blinks like in surprise. There's a temp agency?  Like, it's your head, silly. Don't ask me, I just like work here. Greaaat.  The narrator like smiles, showing the dimples in her cheeks. Thank you! At least I got someone with a gender this time.  Sure did, silly. And cute besides. Is that my opinion or yours?  The narrator winks. You need to like ask? Remember, like your head, your rules. The writer like rolls his eyes in the cutest way. Now what happens next? Pleeeeease tell me they kiss. The writer raises his right eyebrow. The door was just kicked in. What do you think?  The narrator pouts, like looking cute even then. That doesn't mean they don't kiss. Just like a short one? No.  You're mean.]]

Ruben's head whipped to the sound. A very short, very angry, bearded man stood in the doorway. What showed of the man's face turned a deep purple. "So t'is true! You dirty trull!"

Two completely unrelated thoughts flashed though Ruben's head at the same time. One of them being, 'So this must be Mojag.'  The other, whether it happened to be about the interrupted kiss, or the dagger -his dagger- flying at his head, not even Ruben knew. 'Oh crap' .

[[The writer like stops, wondering if 'oh crap' is the best phrase to like use. The narrator thinks it fits fine, and refers to like the kiss. Who is writing this, you or I?  Duh...you are oooobviously. Sometimes you writers are so stuck on yourselves. I though you were supposed to be nicer.  I am nice. I'll prove it. The narrator like hops into the middle of the room in her cute little cheerleader outfit... Now that is  your opinion. Guys don't find clothing 'cute'.  The narrator rolls her eyes. Fine, Mr. Caveman, you want me to do my cheer or not? Not really.  Good! Gimmie-a U! Gimmie-an N! gimmie-a D! That is enough. You just reminded me why I can't stand cheerleading. If you promise to never do that again, I will tell you a secret.  Ok! I promise. Pinkie swear? Hell no. As long as you promised, here's your secret. They kiss...eventually.  OOOOUUUUU! The narrator jumps up and down clapping her hands. Well, like get on with it. The more you write, the sooner they kiss! Oh bother. ]]

[40 pancakes]

((Nice!!! The narration has become half the story ))

[Under the moon]

We left off with Ruben in a rather precarious predicament, if you will remember. Let's recap. Ruben is a soldier who has lost his memory. He has been rescued by a beautiful Dermorian Elfess who happens to be his greatest enemy. They are not in Yliakum, but their ancestors came from there. They both have secrets; his, he can't remember; hers, she won't reveal. Ruben owns a devastating, futuristic weapon called a Biolance and belongs to the Bions. Glyure controls the raw power of magic and is one of the Magus, who are hunted by the Bions. There is a strange attraction between them...ok, maybe not so strange, Ruben is a handsome soldier, Glyure is a lovely lady, you know the old story. They were about to kiss when a certain angry dwarf who was Glyure's only contact with the outside world, kicked the door down, called Glyure a not nice word, and heaved Ruben's dagger at his head. Which brings us to the predicament...

Too late, Ruben tried to throw himself out of the way, but the dagger struck him in the forehead, luckily hilt first, but still with enough force to cause a brief flash of dark and stars before his eyes. A moment later, he felt the floor collide with the back of his head, along with more dark stars. A random thought popped into his recently abused head. At least I will have matching bumps.  Perhaps he would have found that more amusing if not for the angry dwarf standing on the table above him.

"Mojag stop!" Glyure screamed.

The dwarf ignored her, leaping from the table at Ruben, who rolled out of the way as boots hit the floor heavily where his head had been. Before he could move, a thick arm wrapped itself around his neck, cutting off his air. Ruben struggled against the iron grip as the now familiar dark stars filled his vision. I wonder what that kiss...

[[You ass! You like, didn't tell me you were going to post here again! I was hoping you wouldn't notice. If you would...what the... why am I writing in pink?  The narrator sulks, a pretty pout on her face. I think it's pretty. And you like, hurt my feelings. You are a jerk. The writer rolls his eyes, making the narrator angry, which she has every right to be. Now that is your opinion again.  Whatever. Now I like see why the last guy quit. It wasn't a guy.  Enough with the semantics. Like, the point is, you could be like, nicer to me. A big tear rolls down the narrator's cheek. For crying out loud. Fine, just don't interrupt me. It's hard enough to write without you breathing down my neck.  The narrator crosses her arms in irritation. That is not being nice. You better get on with the story before you show everyone just how much of a jerk you are. The writer lets out a large sigh. Where was I?  The kiss. Oh yes, thank you for reminding me, my lovely lady.  That is like not funny. Despite what the narrator like said, a slight blush forms on her cheeks. Oh bother.  ]]

"She was mine!" a voice floated down into the darkness that is Ruben's mind. It should have meant something. But what...

Suddenly, the grip on his neck loosened, letting light into the dark. Throbbing filled Ruben's head, along with the realization that he just nearly died. He coughed and rolled away in case the dwarf was just pausing to pull a weapon, but no attack followed. He stopped and sat up to see Glyure standing over the dwarf, a look of shock on her face. Smoke rose from Mojag's back in thin tendrils, drifting lazily on the wind in counterpoint to the still body on the floor. Ruben struggled to his feet, blinking to clear his vision. Oh god, is he...?  Glyure fell to her knees, disbelief painting a mask of horror on her beautiful face.

"Glyure? Are you...what..."

"I...no Magus has ever harmed another. I have destroyed all we stand for. For...for...a Bion." Her voice was tinged with anger towards the end.

Ruben was sure it was anger at herself, or Mojag. "You did what you had to. I..."

"Shut up! I didn't do what I had to. I did what I shouldn't have. I should never have brought you here," Glyure said, close to tears.

"You can't mean..."

Glyure shouted in anger and pain, "Stop! It is your fault! Get out! I never want to see you again!" Tears began running down her face. She refused to look at Ruben, burying her face in her arms instead. "Get out," she whispered one last time.

Ruben walked slowly to the door, Glyure's sobs following him the entire way. Something was amiss here. Why is she so upset over someone she didn't even care about.  He closes the door softly, cutting of the sound of weeping. It was like cutting out his own heart. There was to much pain in her words and tears to account for what happened in there. And she blamed him. Or is she pushing me away? But why?  Suddenly, like the locks of a Doddemy puzzle, several thoughts fell into place. Dragun. This must be about Dragun, and how he died. She had loved him, and...wait...what is a Doddemy puzzle?

[[You can talk now, I'm done for today.   Oh thank you great one. The sarcasm is heavy in the narrator's voice. I kinda figured that out myself. You didn't have to write it.  The writer is overly pleased with the twist he has placed in the plot. Oh come on. I wasn't that mean. Not even one 'like'?  Bite me, buddy. You may like the way this is going, but I don't. You promised me a kiss, and if they don't do it, you had better pucker up, buddy 'cause you're paying up. The writer is taken aback. Ya, like you just wrote. I'm not sure how to respond to that.  Then don't. Just like, write something better next time. With like, a kiss. The writer grins. That's my girl. Keep the 'likes' coming. As for you readers, I would like to give you a choice. Narrator, if you will?

These are like, the choices:
A. The dwarf is dead, and like, smells bad.
B. The dwarf is not dead, but like way hurt and needs help. And smells bad.
C. The dwarf is a bit crispy, but otherwise A-O-K and alive, but still smells bad.
PM or post your choice here so the great writer can continue with his fantastic tale. Oh woes us if he can not bask in the light of his multitudes of rabid followers.
 
You are kinda morbid, you know, and a little mean yourself with some of those comments.  Well, it was like his fault for interrupting my kiss. And he does smell bad. You have just failed to like write it yet. Ok, just to please you, he will smell bad in the next post, dead or alive. Better?  Much. Hey what's with the new sig, anyways? It's a secret. (sig has been changed since the original posting) Fine buddy, but you're writing in pink untill you tell me or they kiss. The writer takes a long pause. Can't I just get another narrator? That's cold.]]

[Under the moon]

[[So, like, where were we? Oh! I, like, remember now. Since that Moony guy seems to have dumped this story, I’ll, like, take over. It is, like, about time you got some good writing anyways. His is so depressing and, like, un-kiss-full. -I- will be sure to fix that. On with where we left off


Ruben pauses at the sudden vision of what must be, like, the Doddemy puzzle pops into his head. It is all shiny and puzzly, with parts that go together that at first glance look like they should not. The secret to one, he somehow knows, is to find the one piece that holds everything together. Without that piece, the puzzle would, like, all fall apart in your hands. He glances back at the door. Another question assaults his mind. What if Glyure was the Keypiece to the unknown puzzle of his life? If he left now, he, like, might never have his answers. He knows he has to go back for that, and because he knows he will never be able to forget the feel of her soft skin under his hands. He starts back to the door with squared, and very nice shoulders.

Glyure sobs into her folded arms as she, like, fights the storm of emotions inside her. She -killed- one of her own people, and for what? To, like, toss the reason she did it out the door at the first chance she got? It was hard to find the right guy, and maybe Ruben could have been him. In the end, she knew it was the right thing to do, killing Mojag. The stench of the dwarf’s smoldering clothing reminded her that he was still, like, just two steps away. How could such a horrid little man ever think she belonged to him? She likes tall guys with nice shoulders. Guys like Ruben. Guys like
 Dragun. The thought of her lost love puts her into another fit of tears. Even after two years, it still hurt so much. She wanted to touch him so bad again, that maybe it, like spilled over into her feelings for Ruben.

A sound brings all Glyure’s thoughts to a stop. It is the sound of heavy breathing, and the scrape of boots on the floor. Ruben
is he back? The thought sets her heart aflutter. But turning, she sees not the handsome young man she wishes for, but the short, ugly, and very smelly Mojag wobbling as he stands with a ball of light forming in his right hand. The light is, like, red and threatening., and not at all pretty like the one she had made before. It is, like, a dangerous spell! In her state of mind, she knows she will not have the will of time to form her own before his strikes and kills her. The only thing she can think is the wish for, like, that one last kiss.

The door bursts open as Mojag’s Firelight is almost finished. A tall man stands framed in streaks of sunlight as a rush of wind blows his hair out of his eyes. “Glyure, I will not leave you!,” he says in, like, the most heroic and romantic way
 WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!







Oh oh.  Damn straight, ‘oh oh’. Just what do you, 'like’ think you are doing?  Well
 you stopped writing the story without my kiss, so I was just going to
 Oh no you are not. I am the only writer in my head. You even violated my rule about only one character’s mind per post.  Another few sentences, and who knows what kind of sap-fest this would have turned into? And why am I still writing in PINK? The narrator gets a big pouty lip and
 Don’t even start with that. The narrator feels reeeeeeeeeeeealy bad about this, and just wanted to hear more of the story, and to have a voice again. Oh
well, sorry about that. If it means so much, I will add more to this tale, though it is quite old now. The narrator jumps up with a dimpled smile. I knew it would, like, work. The writer’s eyes narrow. You are a sly one. You know that, don‘t you? And cute too! With that, the writer decides to post what the narrator wrote, despite his thoughts that it was written by a deranged- Hey! That’s ME you are thinking about, there, buddy. Post closed. Thank god.]]

[Under the moon]

[[The writer comes home from work on the coldest day of the year, and bundles up before the frosty glow of his monitors. His fingers begin their slow dance of tapping as his eyes dart back and forth from screen to keys as IRC ticks comments off in the background. Nicely put, and no ‘likes’ at all. Now all I have to do is figure out how to straighten out this muddle my hormonally disturbed narrator has
  Hey, you what to talk in pink forever, buster? Er
point taken. You are the boss. Where do we go from here?  Despite his words, the writer still has passing thoughts of what the cost of shipping  an imaginary narrator would be, one way to Pluto. Get out of my thoughts. I have writing to do. Cripes, where to start
 ]]

Ruben realized from the moment he stepped through the door that he must look and sound like a complete fool. (pardon, but the story will be switching to past tense from now on. It is just easier to keep track of that way. Gar
pink.) The bright sun from outside dimmed his sight to the darker interior of the room, so it took a moment to see the dwarf behind Glyure with what seemed to be a flaming ball of light in his hand. It took another moment to see the dwarf’s eyes widen  in surprise, though that did not stop the fireball from turning towards Ruben. He only had the time to gasp before the magic shot forth from Mojag’s stubby fingers to strike him directly in the chest. Lights and darkness combined before Ruben’s eyes as the feeling of being weightless filled him. Then all went black.

[[Like, the hell? Did you just off Ruben? You can’t just go and do that! What about the secrets and the story and my damn KISS? You can’t DO this to me! I am SOOO going to
 Settle down, lady.  Everyone knows I never kill off the main character. Just wait and see.]]

Far away in a tall city of gray stone and green-roofed towers, a man gazed into a glass bowl of what looked like green lit water, except there seemed to be no source for the light besides the water itself. A smile lit his face as the light changed to blue. He tuned to an empty corner of the room and spoke only three words, “He is active.”  What had seemed an empty corner just moments before shifted and bent as a man shape stood from its death-still crouch, its clothing still holding the image and colors of the place it had just resided. In a few heartbeats, the image shifted to perfectly mimic what was now behind the man, making him completely vanish once again. A blurring marked his head as he nodded, then strode out the open door. To any observer, it would have seemed as if part of the wall had duplicated itself and walked away. The other man turned back to the glowing water, seeming to take no note of the figure. He just  smiled again. “Two years is too long for you to hide, Glyure. You will not escape this time.”

[[The writer leans back and calls it a night. It is too cold to write anyways. Wait. That is, like, all I get? ‘Fraid so. You are cruel. The writer just grins. Jerk.]]

[Under the moon]

[[So now, time for another short recap. I shall let the narrator do the honors, since pink hurts my eyes and lifestyle. The narrator, like, rolls her eyes, but starts the recap anyways. Ruben is, like, this soldier guy from the way future of Yliakum  He owns a high-techy gun thing  that runs on radioactive plant goo, but he does not have it right now, like, because this other character, a badassed elf chick with a whip, does. Anyways, she found him in the woods and saves his life, because he had zero memories. It happens to be that they are enemies, though they are being all nice due to the no memories thing, and Ruben kinda has the hots for Glyure (the elf chick) anyways. Are you doing this just to irritate me? Tone down the ditzy cheerleader act just a bit. We all know you are smarter than that. The narrator coughs to hide a smile. Nice of you to notice. Very well. In short: Ruben is being protected by Glyure, who feels a strange and almost compelling attraction to the man. Mojag, Glyure’s protector and only contact to the outside world, is very jealous of this, and has tried to kill Ruben twice now. We left the story right at the second attempt. The writer also added in what he thought was a clever twist in the form a shadowy figure who seems to know something about who knows what. And there was a very creepy chameleon person  as well, but his role is uncertain. On with the story.]]

Memory
 that is all Ruben could think of it as, a wave, no, an enormous wall of crashing memory. It all came back at once, drowning out any thought, any feeling. Memory was all. Back


The jump had not gone quit as planned. The young soldier dangled far from the ground under the strings of his skysail, which was a mangled mass of twisted fabric in the branches above him. His biolance and supplies had been ripped off his black fallsuit by a lone tree two hills back. that is where things had started to go wrong. A night jump was tricky enough without trying to skim low over the trees, but his night vision specks going out at just the wrong time made it impossible.

The soldier pulled out his elite knife -his only remaining weapon- and started cutting the cords. The lance and supplies would have to wait until morning. He cut a few more cords, already planning how he would search out his quarry. The mission was to be simple. How hard could it be to take down one woman, even if she was one of those Magus? A cold smile crossed his face. Any Magus who tried to use their demon-spawned powers on him would be in for quite a shock. That was his last thought before a branch snapped overhead, plummeting him into the clutching darkness below.

Memory raged. Back


“This is your first mission. It is what you were trained for. You will not fail.”

“Yes Sir. I will not fail.”

Ruben knew the confident voice of the second man. It was his own. He stood facing another man with a long, peeked face and dark features. The man stood stiffly, fairly reeking of discipline and order. The man turned and continued his stiff-strided pace back and forth across the  tidy room. He talked as he moved, clicking his boots at every turn.

“Your target will be an Elfess Magus,” he said ‘Magus’ with a tone of high contempt, “We have been trying to capture her for some time now, but she always manages to slip away. You will not less this happen.”

“No Sir, it will not.”

The elder man paused his strides again. “Do not be overconfident. Before she vanished two years ago, she turned one of our own against us. Dragun was one of our best. Remember that.”

Ruben frowned. This was the first he had heard of other missions to capture this demon worshiper, or of this traitor, Dragun. The mission took on a new tone in his eyes. This is where he would finally prove himself, and the worth of the Project. In fact, the Project was even more important than Ruben himself. If he failed, it would all end.

“Yes Sir. I understand, Sir.”

The man continued his pacing.  You will be dropped in from the north to where our scouts followed the dwarf before they lost sight him. Ruben committed every detail to memory, even though he was only half listening. Hi thoughts were filled with visions of himself and his brothers marching acros the lands, and relentlessly hunting down these Magus. Mercy
he did not know the meaning of the word.

Memory pounded in. Something was screaming inside Ruben as he fought to keep the deluge out. Back


Ruben brushed the soot from his arm. No burn, though that was no surprise. He grinned at the shock on the  face of slim elf before him.

“That
.that is impossible
” the man whispered in pure disbelief.

Ruben just smiled larger and looked up at the large window overhead.  That is where his superiors watched from. The enclosed training field was now familiar to him, but he could never get used to the thought of those men staring at him from that window. Those men
his fathers.

“Very good, Number Three,” came the familiar voice over the horn.

“Shall I finish him, Sir?” Ruben asked. He had never actually killed anyone before. Something inside him shied away at the thought, but he stomped it down. If this is what it took to prove himself to these men, then he would do it. He flexed his hands, thinking of the endless ways he knew to kill a man. The elf looked at him with open terror.

“No, Ruben, that will not be necessary. We have yet to interrogate this demon follower. He is a key man in our enemy ranks, and has -much- to tell us.”

Ruben swallowed the distaste that formed in his mouth. He had seen these interrogations before, and had no wish to be a part of them. The man was better off dead. By the end of the day, the victem would sell his own mother to make them stop. Ruben almost felt pity
 if not that he knew the Magus did ten times worse. Not only that, he had been told they could reach right into your mind, and make your nightmares come to life.

“You will not have me!” the elf shouted. Before Ruben could react, a small, red light formed in the man’s hand, but instead of shooting at Ruben as it had last time, he thrust into his own forehead. Fire exploded from the man’s face, incinerating his hand. The thick stench of burning flesh filled the air.

Ruben walked slowly to the man and looked down at what was left of his head. He glanced down at his arm where only his uniform had been burned off, but the skin was healthy and unscarred. A sick feeling overtook him. So that is what it was supposed to do. He glanced up at the window. They must have known this test would work
they must have.

Memory exploded into Ruben’s mind. Back
back
back
to the beginning.

Red light filled the space around him. There was no thought, as he did not know thought yet. There was no feeling, as he did not know feeling. There was only sight, the light, and the thick fluid around him. Slowly, the fluid began to flow away until he was laying naked in the glass coffin. Then he felt two things, cold, and fear. Figures surrounded him, making noises he would not understand until much later.

“Congratulations, it seems as if your little experiment worked. Not bad for only the third attempt.”

“You should never have doubted me. He will prove invaluable in the destruction of the Magus, just as I promised.”

Another voice joined in. “So you -really- believe he will be completely resistant to the powers of the Magus.”

“Of course. You have seen the preliminary tests. He will be unstoppable.”

A forth voice entered the circle. It was stiff and dignified. “So, how long before it is ready for combat?”

“Well, Sir, with the direct mental image training I developed, I would say less than a week.”

“Good, good. I have just the mission. We may have located Glyure again, and I do not want to risk any real soldiers going after her this time.”

“Sir, he is a real person. If you would look
”

“Enough! Anything that can be created and fully trained in less than two weeks is not, and never will be, equal to a true man. Get it ready. The mission is in one week.”

“Yes Sir. He will be ready.”

All but one of the figures left the room where the new man lay shivering. The remaining figure placed something soft and warm over him.

“We will prove to them you are greater than all of them, won’t we
 hmm. You are going to need a name. Experiment Three is a thing’s name. You are a man. Ruben
 I had a son named Ruben, once
”

[[Oh
my
god. That is just
I don’t even have words. What a twist! You are sooooooooo insane. Is that a good or bad thing?  I am not telling. So, how much longer until the ki
 end of the story? I would say one more post should end this part, and folks can make up the rest on their own. The writer looks cold and tired, so ties this part up and posts.]]

[Narure]

is it ok if im just reading the bits in brackets 

[Under the moon]

[[Hey folks. It has been a while, but I hold up on my promises to finish stories. You know how I can’t stand leaving one unended. Gah. I hate writing in pink. Hey muffin, are you here?







Damn. On with the story.]]

The tree trunk seemed to pull away from itself an drift to one side in some semblance of a man shape 
only once it had moved, the original tree still remained. Even as the wayward trunk moved, it doppelganged  flawlessly with everything behind it, shifting from trunk to rock to grass and back to trunk again as it paused at the next tree. A smaller section of the shifting shape tipped upwards. One would be hard pressed to call the thing a head, but the way it glanced to and fro left no uncertainties that it was searching relentlessly. A low hiss escaped the creature as the dangling ropes of a skysail caught it’s attention. Only the most naive of persons would doubt that the next hiss befouling the air was anything but that of morbid pleasure and the thrill of the hunt


[[A bus pulls up in the writer’s mind, letting out, like, the very cute cheerleader narrator in a brand new outfit and hot-pink high heels, while carrying an assortment of bags and boxes. Oh, there you are. Where have you been? The narrator winks. Shopping of course, silly. In my head? And you took the bus? Well, how else am I supposed to get to the mall? There are, like, a lot of empty spaces you have to cross to get anywhere in here. Har har. I see you have lost none of your bright and sunny attitude, and caring spirit. Like, thanks! The narrator does not, like, miss the sarcasm, but smiles anyways and pulls out a very cute pink-flowered hat. Hold up. Now -that- did not come out of my imagination. Have you been visiting Draklar’s head? The narrator giggles. You are funny. Now, shouldn’t you be getting back to the story? Oh, and here is your credit card back. I might have over-maxxed it a -teensy- bit, but I’m like sure you won’t mind a talk with your imaginary banker and lawyers. Great
at least let me stop writing in pink. The narrator smiles, showing her dimples. Like, less talk and more writing, and maybe you won’t notice as much. You are not helping much. Fine. Back to writing, oh princess. Don’t get snarky]]

Ruben’s consciousness returned quickly after his deluge of memories. He knew who he was now, and he knew his mission. His eyes snapped open to the sound of a scuffle to his right. There, Glyure and Mojag struggled to overcome one another in a desperate fight of twisting arms and short kicks and punches. As Ruben sat up and rolled into a crouch, Glyure finally got the upper hand as she twisted the dwarve’s hand behind his back and wrapped her other arm around his neck.

“You killed him, you bastard!” Glyure whispered viciously, though tears fell from her eyes, “You killed him.”

Ruben struggled with his mind and body as new and old memories fought and collided in perhaps an even more deadly battle than his eyes witnessed. Still half dazed, his eyes drifted down to the large hole burnt into his shirt directly over his heart. The skin was untouched. The memories were true. All true. Spotting his Biolance laying in a corner, he shook of the last of the fog in his head. He knew what had to be done now. Time felt as if it stood still as his hands closed on the weapon he had practically been born with only two weeks ago. It felt as part of him as he flipped up the panel and adjusted the power level. It was part of him as he turned and aimed at the struggling elfess and feebly kicking dwarf.

[[Oh, you had BETTER not! Hush, and leave this to the professionals.]]

“Glyure, stop,” Ruben said in a hard voice.

Glyure froze, her arm around Majag’s neck loosening enough for the dwarf to take a gasp of air. Her eyes slowly came around to rest upon Ruben, filing with shock, confusion, and joy all in a jumble.

“Stand away from the dwarf,” Ruben ordered. Mojag still had some use, and it would do no one if she killed him.

Glyure seemed to notice the hole in his shirt for the first time, and fear began filling her eyes. Uncertainty filled her movements as she let the dwarf slip for her grasp and slowly stood up. Mojag coughed and clutched his throat.

“What
do you mean to do with me?” Glyure asked quietly, her eyes staring at the Biolance’s fuel rod as she licked her lips nervously.

“I am not going to allow you to kill the dwarf. I am going to need all the help I can get if I am to help free our people.”

“Our
people?”

Ruben finally lowered his weapon, knowing he would not have to use it to stun either Glyure or Mojag, who still was unable to gain his feet.

“Yes. Those were I come from are prisoners just as much as you are fugitives. We are all the victims of the powermad. You showed me that. I
thank you.”

Glyure took a hesitant step forward. “You
remember then?”

“Yes. Every lie they ever told me. Every second of my
life. My creator
my father
he knew this day would come. He just could never tell me.” Ruben glanced over to Mojag. “Are you done trying to kill me, or can we have a reasonable talk?”

The dwarf looked up to see the still smoldering hole in Ruben’s shirt, his eyes going wide. All he could manage was a weak nod.

“I’ll *cough* give ye no more troubles.”

“Good,” Reben’s gaze went back to Glyure, emotions that had never been taught to him flooding out any of his training, “We have much to talk about
and little time. When this was done,” he stops to motion at the hole in his shirt, “a magic beacon was set to trigger. One of my
brothers will be on his way.”

[[Hold on there. How is Glyure ever going to kiss him now when he is acting like sooooo cold? He just had to remember being someone else, and being trained as a cold blooded killer. Give him a break. Well, you could have made him a -bit- more cute and cuddly. I don’t take requests. Don’t worry your pretty head. He will warm back up. When? You  said like one more post should finish this story. Hmmm. That. Well, I also said I would be able to finish Chain of Souls in four. You know you just can’t trust a guy with imaginary people in his head. TouchĂ© .]]

[Under the moon]

[[Time to tie this up, don’t you think? You are asking me? Well, yes. Um
it could, like
go on for a few more posts, couldn’t it? I mean, there is a lot more to tell, right? The narrator looks down and kicks the ground a few times. You seem worried. I
um
. Once the story is over, you won’t need me anymore, will you? The narrator looks dismal and tiny. Stop that. No using descriptions as a weapon. Worry not, we shall work something out. The narrator brightens somewhat. Well then, like on with it! You still, like, owe me a kiss.]]

The day began to pass once more into night, bringing with it the cold doubts of darkness and fear. The wind was ever so still, giving not a rustle to the masses of leaves clinging to the trees outside the hidden mansion. It was the quiet of death. And in that quiet, Death was coming.

[[Ooooh. I like that. Shhh. Don’t break the flow.]]

“You are sure he
it is coming?” Glyure asked in a low, tremulous voice that pieced the silence seemingly more than any shout could. She winced at the sound of her own voice, quickly searching the dimly outlined forest for movement beyond the small stack of firewood that was their only barrier.

“It is,” was all Ruben said in return, though he reached out his hand to give hers a comforting squeeze. He could not tell her exactly how close it really was. He could not tell her that it was coming
 as it was already there. The thing was crafty, and completely silent. If he had not known it was out there, he likely would not have noticed it at all. Only his sensitivity to the power of the magus even let him know where it was. There. It was moving again. The time was now.

“Mojag,” Ruben stated calmly, “Check the path behind the house, and make a circuit of the shrine.”

Mojag’s eyes widened slightly in fear, but he nodded and squared his shoulders before trudging off around the building. Ruben felt Glyure’s hand tighten in his, though her look never changed. Internally, Ruben nodded to himself. She was doing well. He hoped that he could protect her well enough in the moments about to come. Giving her hand one last squeeze, he stood up and turned around, putting his back to the woods
to where it waited.

“Well, I think we are safe for the night. I’ll bar the doors and windows, while you take last watch,” Ruben said, trying not to grind his teeth. He had never felt so exposed in his life, short as it had been, but it was necessary. In moments it would all be over, one way or the other.

“Wait,” Gylure whispered.

Getting up from behind the firewood wall, she reached up to pull Ruben’s head down. She paused for a moment, looking deep into his eyes, then closed her eyes and placed her lips on his. The kiss only lasted for the space of a breath, but it seemed to say all that was ever needed.

Ruben took a deep breath as Glyure hunched back down behind the wall. Perhaps he was human after all. Closing his eyes, he started to walk back towards the open door of the mansion. It was only twenty steps away
 seventeen
. fifteen
twelve
.seven
 Ruben stopped. That was all the warning the thing was going to have. Ruben could see nothing but red as blinding light tried to pour through his closed eyelids. Immediately, he dropped to the ground and rolled to one side, only to hear something scream on agony and land heavily where he had just stood. Rule one of combat. Cripple your foe’s strongest asset. the thing had been aiming for Ruben
 but they had been aiming for the thing’s sight. Ruben’s eyes popped open as the light quickly faded. He glanced over to see Glyure’s hand still out from the Lightflash spell she had cast. She was safe. His attention flashed back to the
something kicking up dust as it flailed at what must have been it’s eyes, though the entire thing looked like a piece of dark forest come to life. In moments, though, it quickly began to change, blending in with the dusty path it rolled in, shrieking out its pain.

“Bloody stones!” Mojag’s voice called from the dark doorway, just as planned, followed by streaks of shimmering biolance bolts that pounded into the thing on the ground. Round after round pummeled the creature as its shrieks transformed into bubbling coughs. The thing started lurching towards the doorway, and the Dwarf outlined by muzzle flashes inside.

“Die, ye unholy spawn!!” the stout dwarf cried, continuing to pull the trigger as fast as he could. As the thing reached the door, despite the constant barrage, he gave up on firing and brought the butt of the Biolance down on the thing’s ‘head’ as hard as his considerable dwarf strength could. The creature dropped to the ground with the sickening crunch, trembled once
 then was still. For long moments, only the sound of sizzling flesh disturbed the quiet of the night.

“Well
 ain’t that be the Enki’s tail in the morning? Yur plan worked,” Mojag finally spoke, poking the thing with a steel-bound boot toe.

“Experiment two in the Dyna class warrior project,” Ruben responded, “Heavy assault infantry. Not very smart, but an excellent tracker and crafty fighter. Lucky for us, the only one ready for field use so far.”

“There be more of them?”

“Yes. Their gestation  is far longer than mine. We’ll be seeing more of them in the coming months.”

“We?” Mojag question doubtfully.

“Yes, Mojag,” Glyure answered softly, her eyes avoiding the dead shape on the ground, “If you intend to come with us. It is not safe here anymore. And
”

“And we have work to do,” Ruben finished. “Unless you want your fellow Magus to fight those without warning? I offer you a pact and allegiance.”

Ruben extended his hand to the barrel-shaped dwarf


Generations later, a story is often told to young children, and a vague history is taught to students. No one is sure what really happened in those dark years of fire and death, but legend tells the story without doubt. Out of the smoke and ashes of countless battles, three figures always emerged to crush the ravaging hordes. A mighty Dwarf hero, cleaving his way through all foes with axe, magic, and Lance. The Elven Princess, lifting the sprits of all with both her unrivaled beauty, and her fierceness in battle. And finally, the man who could walk through fire without getting burned, his cold calmness in the heat of battle striking fear into the hearts of his foes more than anything else. But at the end of each story, history, or legend, the tale ends the same. Out of smoke and fire, freedom was born, and Magus and Bion became one.

[[I guess that is the end, huh? Yes. The rest is history. Hey. Red? The narrator blushes and looks at the ground. I thought it would be, like, a nice goodbye, and you  did finally get to that kiss. Though it could have, like, been better. Never can please you, can I? The writer gives a one sided grin. Now that is just teasing! But it is time for goodbye. I’ll miss being a narrator in your head
a little. Well then, I guess you won’t mind being a new character of mine either, will you? LIKE, OH MY GOD! Are you serious?! Would I lie to an imaginary person? The narrator is speechless
 For once 
 but the smile on her face says all that is needed. And with that, folks, see you in the next story!]]

[Garris Shrike]

Brilliant writing, UtM. I haven't seen the likes of it in a while.  Thank you for this piece of literature. What i would like next to see maybe would be a co-op post like this one, maybe about the Magus-Bion war or somethin. That would be cool! Anywho, excellent work, UtM, and 40 pancakes as well.