Spouse Aggro

It started out as a pretty enough night, running around doing favors and enjoying the sights of Telon. Then I noticed a note in my journal about some unfinished wizard business. Turns out I was in the middle of a list for some kind of insane magic user, named Galron or Javon…something similar.

Wizards have a damn good memory, so it would be a good idea to finish the task. The giant stone warriors outside of his keep still hated me, so I took my time in sneaking in. Last time we chatted he handed me a bag and asked me to fetch him a dead dwarf. Sure thing, I thought, no big deal.

At this point it would be good to note that I’ve died before, was kicked back to life by a giant gray woman named Grin, and felt generally more gloomy after. Friends tell me I used to laugh all the time, and I’m sure I did, but I just don’t feel as much like giggling as it seems I used to. So now I don’t think too much about destroying other mortals, as long as the victims are far from good people, and the payout is decent. I need money, and money comes from these kind of favors.

So I found the dwarf and told him that the wizard wanted him folded neatly into a bag. Generally, this kind of talk will force the victim to draw his blade. Then, in self defense, I draw mine. Bette sneaks up behind them and I walk off with 150 extra pounds slung on my back.

Turns out that the wizard had many of these victims in mind, and some of them had taken to living under a bridge. Perhaps to hide from the wizard, I don’t know, but providing them with the standard “your body goes in my bag” warning set them into a rage. To be honest, these are no ordinary people. There’s something about them that makes bagging them easier on my shoulders, literally and emotionally. There’s a smell around this part of the countryside, too.

After being sent back to the bridge to dump off the remains of the experiments that the wizard did with these people, I was informed that he found no use for the results. He sent me out for more flesh, and again back to the bridge to dump the evidence. He claimed there was something about the water, something that was interfering with his experiments.

Turns out he was duping me into seeding the bags of flesh in the water, and allowing the magical effects to transform them into some kind of, well, something less pretty than before.

Leftovers, he called them.

Several times I did this, and to be honest I do not know why. To be even more honest, I felt no pains while doing it, I felt fine actually. At one point I was tossing over an arm and caught myself thinking about what I would have for dinner that night. I decided that, after collecting my reward, I would ask the magician about this.

He claimed to have fixed all issues with his experiments, and sent me one last time to fetch three of the bodies. Under the bridge I went, and was attacked immediately.

He giggled when I returned with a full bag. All my actions had primed the flesh, and now it was wholly animated. Somehow he had tricked me into gathering and creating him a batch of bony servants. I felt horrible, but still thought of dinner. He had spun some sort of spell over me, made me his puppet for an afternoon. He snuffed the tiny candle of my emotions for the entire process, and honestly I was glad.

Later, over dinner, I could still smell that smell on my hands.

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When Farmville first started selling their Hobby Farm ™ kits years ago, many people thought of them as nothing but toys. By the time the next summer rolled around, however, it was clear that the kits would provide many Americans the lifestyle they had always wanted, one of Earth and of grit. It would take hard work, and only those that saw past the novelty aspect of the farms would see any success.

I am one of these successes, but only through a more narrow definition of the word. For several seasons in a row I have cleared well over what I had ever dreamed of, and was able to afford a lifestyle that did not fit the normal cliche’ of the American Farmer.

A view of my 9-plot farm. Space is money, friend.

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“It’s…a little unsettling.” Jacob said, staring at the glowing projection in front of him.

He was standing in a darkened lab, one that looked a lot like the classroom labs of his youth. Behind him breathed a bearded scientist in a typical white coat. Jacob swore that the smell in the room was familiar, too. He took off his glasses, wiped them with the bottom of his t-shirt.

“Well, that’s what we were going for. Realism.” said the scientist as he shuffled in behind the projection and adjusted some buttons. Jacob heard a click and the woman standing before him blinked and smiled, looked right at him. “Hi there! May I help you?” The woman asked. Her voice was the same as his wife but had been tweeked up a bit in pitch. It reminded him of when she would see a puppy or a baby and her voice would raise.  He looked at the woman, and she stood looking at him with her hands crossed in front of her, head cocked slightly, and her mouth drawn into a thick red smile.

“How are you?” Jacob asked. The woman widened her smile. “I’m SO good today. But then again, it’s always a good day here. Do you need some help with insurance?” The woman reached behind her back and pulled out a plastic pricing gun, the kind you see stock boys using at the local supermarket. “We let you name your own price! We’re the only ones that do!” The woman held out the gun towards Jacob. He looked at the scientist, who was smiling.

“I knew she was filming commercials for you. She told me about that. I even visited her one day on the set. But this…this..”

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“Can you turn the lights up a bit? So I can see the audience better?” Check asked, motioning downward with his hand, palm down.

The glaring lights in his eyes dimmed somewhat, and the house lights came up a bit. He could see, clearly now, an audience of around 200 people sitting nervously. Some of them smiled but most sat with mouths closed, nervously avoiding eye contact. He hated that reaction, that nervous reaction. Too many times had it meant that the person was actually about to attempt something very wrong.  This audience had been hand-picked from a list of millions, though, over the last year. Everyone had been checked and double-checked.

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It was one of his favorite types of night: cold, light snow, so quiet he swore he could hear the flakes landing on his hood. He almost stayed outside, but he swore to his friend to see the priest.

The inside of the bar was dimly lit, packed with adventurers. He elbowed his way to the bar and asked where to find the meeting room. When he opened the door to the backroom, there sat a man wrapped in a bright cloth, tending to a fire. He didn’t look up, only waved to the chair across the table from himself.  “Sit.” he said to Rikoo.

Rikoo felt his anger already growing. He clenched his jaw, but took a deep breath and sat down.

“You’re the one, so what can I help you with?” the priest asked Rikoo. Rikoo looked at the man, considered him. He seemed honest, if not a little arrogant. His tone was a little bit condescending. Rikoo remembered his promise, and despite feeling silly he lit a smoke and rubbed his chin.

“Well,” he started “I died. You know that, right?”

The priest smiled. “Yes, yes I know that.”

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The woman stood at least 7 foot tall, and she was all legs and arms. She had on a grey, tattered plain shirt and grey pants. Her eyes were huge and rimmed with black, no pupils, softly glowing. Her hair fell down the middle of her back, grey as well. She was devoid of color.

Grup was standing, Lealah clenched her fists.

“Who are you?” asked Grup.

“Here he is.” Is the only thing she said, and from behind her shuffled Rikoo Rakoo, thought to be long dead and rotting in the grave.

Lealah gasped, her chest tightened and she felt faint. Grup immediately rushed over, as healers do, and grabbed Rikoo by the shoulders. He stared at the Raki’s face, took it in. Something was off but it WAS him, it WAS Rikoo. Grup looked at the woman and wondered who she was. He squinted his eyes but knew that he had never even seen a creature like her, much less one that he might recognize from a bar or a visit to Khal.

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The ghost pulsed with light. Slowly, like an afterimage, it shrunk. It started to form into a shape familiar to Rikoo.
A small head formed, two arms, two legs. Although it was still primarily transparent, he could see long hair falling out of the back of the skull, fingers forming on the hands.
And the face of a little girl began to take shape. It’s eyes grew large, and they stared at the package. Her tiny mouth hung open, it looked as though she was in shock.
Her nimble glowing fingers slowly unwrapped the package. They were shaking, but still were careful as though the package was fragile. Rikoo felt a wave of sadness creeping over him, it seemed to flow from the ghost. He could only watch.

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Lealah gripped tightly as the Wveryn dove almost straight  down towards a moonlit beach. Despite it’s mass and it’s various straps and slight armor, it flew absolutely silently.

It landed and she jumped off as quickly as she could. She tightened her wraps around her hands, opening and closing her fingers until her fist felt like a rock. She ducked down and made her way up the hill towards a dimly lit mud hut.

The size of the building was not apparent at first in the dark. As she crawled up through the grass, it grew and grew until she realized it was the size of a grand tent, peaking in the air with a criss-cross of great wooden stakes. A fire roared in the center of it, and she could see separate rooms made of bamboo walls, small stoves made of mud.

At the far end of the great hut she could see stairs made of mud brick, capped off by a throne. In the throne sat what she thought would be her target. How she would get through the maze of walls untouched and undiscovered was beyond her.

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Grup:

This might find you, or might not. If it has, either you are too nosy or too caring. Either way  I’m sorry.  I hope that the information in this letter will explain a few things that even good friends like you might not know. I never kept secrets, but my life was ordinary enough to keep it quiet.

I grew up, naturally, on the docks of Tawar Galan. I can’t remember much about being very young , but I remember the smell of the sea and the fish, even the smell of wet nets drying on the boats. I remember the constant talk from the sea, the hissing and the gurgling. I loved it there.

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New Friends

The pod waited, surrounded by cables, lights casting an errie glow upon it’s irradescent skin. Beauius was nervous, to be sure. She never enjoyed stepping into a pod, or leaving one for that matter. She loved the solace of the inside of the pod. The warmth, the joining of flesh and machine.

Soon enough she was settled into it, plugged into it directly. She could already feel her mind searching for the thought conduits that would carry her will into the various parts of her ships. For some reason it seemed different parts of her mind came forth during certain activities. When she launched a missle, her sense of smell seemed stronger than ever before. Launching a probe gave her a fuzzy stomach of nostalgia, and thoughts of holidays. Scanning a ship was always semi-sexual. Her body, mind and ship all seemed to carry each others weight. It was a glorious feeling.

Her pod slowly slid into the battleship. She could feel the vibrations of the engines start in her feet until her entire body hummed. She couldn’t believe how quickly her mund linked to the new ship. She heard stories of the reaction time of the newer BS’s, but she had never felt this speed of merging before. Her mind quickly scanned through all sub systems, and even performed dummy checks. Soon enough she felt as familiar in this new environment as in her old ship. Her money was well spent.

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Meeting

The bar was dingy and loud, a place I would never visit normally. I had to book passage on a huge Caldari ship just to get here safely. If I get what I came for, however, it will be well worth it. Suddenly a small child walked up to me, wrapped in a cloak, the hood hiding it’s features. “Have a seat.” said a gruff voice under the cloth. It sounded very deep.

I sat down at a nearby table and the child pulled the opposite chair out and sat down, and dropped the hood. It was actually a man, middle aged, with flecks of grey at his temples. He was handsome, but worn, and a tattoo that looked like a gun barrel peeked out from under his coarse hair. HE looked at me sternly as I noticed across his knuckles the words “BOOM” on one hand and “BOOM” on the other.

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Cold Space

It was hard for LoHeil to believe what he was seeing. The space around him not only glowed, but PULSED, and throbbed. Just like Afran said, the walls of his ship started to hum with the vibrations from the sector, and soon he heard beautiful moanings in his mind, they tickled the very nerve receptors his spine was plugged into. He opened as many views as he could, he released all of his camera drones and even his heavy combat units.

He looked thru each of their electronic eyes in turn, just to see his ship at a different angle floating like a bug on a beautiful body of water, during a storm of color. In his ear Afrans voice popped: ” I told you it was pretty–huh?” He laughed at her. She had such a way of shrugging off the largest things. “It is STUNNING, Afran. Where the hell ARE we?” He willed his map to come up. Where it said he was..well, it was NOT THERE.

Everytime the map would close in on his location it would shudder and restart the zoom into the map. He felt his mind trace over the fine lines of the code for the map. Everything was fine. “I don’t know, all I know is how to get here. I have flown here so many times now I just know when to stop, when to turn. That last gate back there…that has no place on any map. Or at least I can’t remember.

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The reporter sat down to my right, on a dark leather chair. It made a noise, and she smiled. She was young and new at this, so I did her a favor and asked for her directly for this interview.

“Sarah..is it?” I asked. “Yeh, and you’re Check!” She smiled. I nodded back. She seemed on the verge of giggles, her excitement bothered me. “Well, Sarah, I asked you here to announce something. We have been friends with your paper for a long time, they’ve always covered us fairly.

We thought it best to let them be the first to know.” “Know what?” she asked, writing and looking down at her pad. She didn’t notice the huge thin grey hand reaching for hers. When she looked up, startled by the cold skin upon hers, she gasped. Before her stood a tall, very tall, thin woman. Her hair brushed the ceiling. Her skin was grey, almost dark grey. .

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The merchant was being smart with me, and we both knew it. I had to keep playing the game until I got what I wanted.

“So you have seen him, or not?” I asked.

“Of course I have, which is a more expensive matter.” he said.

I sighed. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a few gold. His hand shot out, palm up, fingers motioning. I dropped the gold into his calloused filthy hand. “He was here buying supplies. Seemed to be in a hurry. When I asked him where he was going, he told me he needed to get to Tawar Galan  and wanted to know if I knew any ships to gain passage on.” “And what’d you tell him?” I asked. “I told him no, and he went off to the docks. Later Meliard told me he gave him a lift to Tawar. From there, I haven’t heard anything else.”

Satisfied, I flipped my hand at him and left.

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The best thing about a rainstorm in the city is the aftermath of cleanliness. For a few days the stink and dirt is removed, replaced by cooler air.
Khal was not a favorite stop, but a needed one. The only thing that made it worth it was the Tavern, and a small Raki girl that lived in a room upstairs.

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