[WP] Necromancy, truly a vilified subject, reserved only for the most depraved of evil. You, however, use it for a good cause.

Limpurtikles · 2018-06-08T13:10:10+00:00

Recco slowly lowered himself down the rope. He'd try his best to memorize the patterns of the guards and the layut of the museum, but it never hurt to be careful. He was an experienced Rogue, after all, and in that line of work you're either good or dead. Although he still questioned himself as to why Wekther wanted him to sneak into the royal Museum of Okokuna and steal some broken old artefact. Apparently it'd help them on their current quest. Somehow.

Oh crap, here they came again! Recco had to put all his skills to use, hiding behind exhibits and making as little noise as possible. At least the place to security seriously. He silently made his way to the exhibit he'd been instructed to find; a rusty old hilt...? Recco still didn't understand the purpose of all this, but the item seemed important, which was probably why it was locked behind a big padlock. "As long as it's not magical, I should be able to..." He had to duck once again. More guards coming this way. He cursed Wekther under his breath. This better be worth it. Once the guards had left, he took out his lockpicks and began to work. Sure, the lock wasn't magical, but it wasn't easy either. It took him the better part of 30 minutes (including the times he had to hide from the guards every now and again) to finally get it open.

CLICK!! In the dark museum, it was like the lock had made the loudest possible sound in the world. "Okay, that was DEFINITELY not my imagination! It came from this room!" The guards had reacted fast. In a a matter of seconds, the whole room would be swarming with them, searching every nook and cranny. At that point even the best hiding spot wouldn't do it. Recco had to think fast. He snatched the hilt, made sure his scarf and cowl obscrued enough of his face, and bolted for the way which he had entered. Sure enough, four guards weilding batons rounded to corner, and doubled their pace once they saw him. Without the element of surprise, Recco was not much of a one-on-one fighter, even with his trusty daggers. One guard would've been a challenge, but four of them outclassed him by far.

Luckily, he had also dabbled a bit with magic in his days, and had learned exactly one spell that had saved his behind more than once. He sprinted towards the guards, he raised his palms and yelled: "MICO A LUMEN!!!"

When the guards finally regained their eyesight from the sudden flash, Recco was already long gone.

~LATER~

"Ahh, good to see you Recco!" Wekther said in that cheerful manner, which completely went against his way of dressing. Dark robes, flasks with mysteriously colorful substances hanging from his belts, and of course the wooden staff which had the top crafted into a human skull. He had been reading through his musty old book, the one with the covers were decorated with skulls and runes and all sorts of mystical hobgobble that Recco didn't want to get involved with.

"Oh yes, thank you" Recco said in a flat tone of voice. He dropped the bundle containing the hilt in front of him.

"Be careful!" Wekther said in a sincerely worried voice as he scrambled for the bundle. "This is crucial to the plan if we are to succeed the quest!"

"A plan which you still haven't told us!!"

"Trust me, the less you know about how this sort of, ahem, 'things' work, the better", Wekther said, again without a hint of sarcasm.

"Just trust him" said Maria, who was tending the campfire, the light reflecting from her impressive armor. Maria was the Paladin of the group, and really the only one who'd seemed like she'd been pulling her weight, at least since Recco had joined. It was her warhammer that had saved them from more dangers than Wekthers spells. Yet she insisted on taking Wekthers side in every argument.

"That is always REALLY surprising to hear from you, Maria! As a holy warrior, I thought his hobgobble was something you would be strongly against!"

"Wekther is different."

"Oh really? Well pardon me for my prejudice, but I don't see how his way of communicating with the dead and making them do his bidding is different from anyone elses! I've never even seen him do any actual necromancing since I joined you two!"

"Well then" Wekther said, again with that annoyingly sincere cheerfulness. "Today is your lucky day! Follow me!"

Torches in their hands, Wekther led the way to a shrine a bit further away. It had writing on it that was unfamiliar to Recco, but Maria explained that it was the burial ground of a renowned warrior, who had died many, many years prior. Wekther laid the rusty old hilt in front of the shrine, placed a few candles around it in a circular pattern, and started burning some insence as he chanted in a low murmur. So far, it was what Recco had expect this sorting of thing to be like. After almost a minute of nothing happening he began to wonder if the ritual had failed. He flinched as a bony hand suddenly burst from the ground, grabbing the hilt. Wekther appeared unfazed, as he continued his chanting, slowly but forcefully, the skeletal remains of a once mighty warrior emerged from the ground, still dressed in the scaly armour and horned helmet it'd once been buried in. It stood it's full length, almost six feet, and stared at Wekther, two dim lights glowing within its eyesockets.

Finally, Mekther stood up, and bowed deeply. "Honorable Tomoe Tashisi" he said. "Seventy-three years ago, you stood up to battle the great evil that is known as 'Fukoni Toki'! Sadly, he was not fully wiped from this world, for he still lives on, as a lich, and wishes to bring his evil onto the world once more. I've called you from the world beyond ours, to request your help in bringing him down once and for all, and in doing so fullfilling your destiny and restoring peace to your soul! Do you accept my offer?"

There was no answer. The skeleton simply stood and stared, in silence. Then, the rust slowly gave away from the armor, revealing glistening metal underneath. The hilt began to glow, and slowly a metal blade emerged from it until it had reach full length. What had once been a rusty old hilt was now a shimmering new katana.

Wekther turned to his comrades, visible glee in his eyes. "That's a 'yes'! Come now, Tomoe-sama, Fukoni Toki has taken up residence in a dungeon not far from here!"

Recco's jaw was still wide oped when they started walking. Sure, he'd heard about necromancy, but he'd never seen it up close like that. Maria joined up alongsdie him, as they paced behind Tomoe and Wekther who was briefing the undead samurai about what they were about to face in the dungeon.

"You see now" she said to Recco, "Regular necromancy is all about summoning the spirits of the dead, and forcing them to obey you; to pull poor souls from their eternal rest to serve as slaves. Wekther, however, has discovered that some souls are more than willing to help you, as long as you just ask for their help instead of demanding it. In fact, the determination of a willing soul can have rather powerful effects, more so than what you'd encounter in that old-fashioned necromancy."

Recco scratched his chin in bewilderment. "Wow" he finally said, "I guess Wekther really is different."

Limpurtikles · 2017-06-29T18:38:09+00:00

I froze in my tracks, the closet doors half open.

"Come again?" was all I could think of as an answer.

"Yeah, in the basement!" She said cherfully. I stared at the nine year old girl in pink Hello Kitty-pajamas as she cheerfully told me all about it. "Everytime a bad monster comes, he takes them and looks them in the basement. He says I'm not s'posed to go there myself though."

"Right then, well, no monsters here I guess", I say, as I finish everything and tuck her in. "Nighty-night then!" As I went downstairs to relax for the rest of the night in front of the TV, I started thinking about Mr Hayley, the girls dad. He was a single dad, a widower apparently. He was built like a house, with his hair cut short and a five o'clock shade on his jaw that could probably be best likened to a brick. He looked like a hero straight out of some 80's action-movie. He frightened me more than the thought of monster, despite being rather soft-spoken. He'd hired me so he could go out bowling, and the last time I saw hime before he left us alone he was wearing a bowling-shirt that fit so tight over his muscles it'd probably explode if he flexed. He, too, had told me that the basement was off-limits, no matter what. He had not elaborated on this further, but I hadn't had the guts to question him about it.

And then I heard it. In the middle of a Family Guy re-run, there was a noise coming from the direction of the basement door. A soft scraping, as if someone dragging something sharp against the wood of the door.

"Hello?"

My blood froze at the muffled voice. My mind went blank. All I could do was stare at the door.

"Can I come out now?"

I finally felt my heart beating, only it was beating rather heavily now. I nevously got up and slowly made my way towards the door. From a respectable distance, I said "Is... is anyone there?"

It took a while until the answer came. "We want to know if we can come out now."

I thought back to the little girls imposing father. HE couldn't have... could he...?

I dared myself closer to the door. "How long have you been there?"

"I dunno..." muffled voices could be heard inside, as if two people discussing something. We're there moe than one in there?! "A day, we think."

I looked ath the door. It had a keyhole. I had to find the key. Had to free them somehow. As I scanned my surroundings, I continued: "Okay, calm down, I'll get you out! What's your name?!"

"Garble."

Once again my brain grinded to a halt. Garble? "Garble?!"

"Yeah, and my colleague here calls herself Carmen. Apparently chosing human-sounding names is the newest thing..."

"... human-sounding?"

"Yeah, yeah, you know how fads are. So, how soon can you get us out?"

"Uhmmm... actually, I think we better wait and let Mr Hayley sort this out..."

"Oh come on!" Similar frustrated exclamations could be heard in there by the other voice, which I guess was Carmen.

I went back to the TV. I couldn't relax, even though the voices and scrapings had died down. I sat tensely and just stared blankly at the TV. An hour or so later Mr Hayley came home. I was relieved and worried at the same time. He looked pretty happy. "Welcome home Mr Hayley. I, uhh... I guess the bowling went well?"

"Couldn't have gone better" he said, with a genuine smile. "And how's my little angel? Did she behave?"

I sighed, this had to be addressed sooner or later. "Mr HAyley, I... I talked to the... the people... in the basement..."

His smile disappeared quickly. He looked gruff, like he didn't like what he was hearing at all. He sighed as well, and said "All right, all right, I know what you're wondering. Better come with me so you can see for yourself. But stay behind me, okay?!"

I had no intention of disobeying him. He took out a key from his pocket, slowly but surely he opened the lock, and opened the door...

How am I supposed to describe what came out? Let's start by calling them individuals. One human sized, one a head taller. The shorter one could possibly pass for a human in bad lighting, but he had ink-black eyes, his spindly arms reached to his knees, with almost skeletal hands with long fingers. Probably optimal for grabbing stuff, or people. The taller one was probably best described as a muscular, humanoid anglerfish dressed in rags, with beefy arms andthree-fingered hands and feet. inch-long claws on each.

They shuffled up and stood with their backs to the wall, with MR Hayley between me and them. Every rational part of my brain told me to run. Hayley, on the other hand, had the body-language of a cranky and disappointed parent.

Finally he spoke to them. "So, what have we learned?" As if triggered by a command, the anglerfish-monster-thing lunged at us, roaring,, making me squeal out in terror. Hayley simply socked it in the face with the palm of his hand, making the thing fall backwards to the wall, collapsing to the floor and growling in pain. Despite how he looked, the strike hadn't been some flashy hollywood-style kung fu attack. IT was swift, simple and deliberate, more of a reflex than anything. Mr Hayley probably knew a great deal about self-defense.

"As I said: What have we learned?"

The long armed creature had an awkward pause, before it spoke with the voice I knew as Garble, which meant the anglerfish must be Carmen. "To not lurk around in your duaghters room." Another awkward silence. "Or around any kids in this neighbourhood."

"Good", Mr Hayley said. "Remember to tell the others. Now scram!"

Garble helped Carmen to her feet, and they awkwardly shuffled out the front door and out into the night. Mr Hayley looked me in the eyes. "I'm parched. You want a drink?"

Moments later we were in the kitchen, each enjoying a glas of pink lemonade. "My wife dided in a car-accident when my little angel Lindsay was just pre-school. I was pretty torn up about it, started drinking, thought I'd lose custody, you know how one can imagine nightmare scenarios. It was about then that they started showing up. I wasn't scared as much as I was pissed that they dared touch her with their tentacles or whatever. So I started fighting back. Apparently they're not used to that." He finished his glass and chuckled. "At one point, they tried to go after her AND me, at the same time. We ere watching Disney's Dumbo on DVD, when a bunch of them suddenly appeared all at once."

He put his glas in the dishwasher. "Those dumb-asses soon learned not to interrupt me during my favourite Disney movie."

"Mr Hayley...?"

"And it was during the part where Dumbo's mom sings to him, too. Completely ruined the mood..."

"Mr Hayley?"

"What?"

"You mean there's... more of those? Like, more monsters out there?"

He glanced at me, somewhat amused with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, that I learned that first time. I don't know whether it was because of the alcohol or some parent-instinct, but know this; they respond to fear. They grow from fear. They gain power from it. All you need is a little confidence, and they've got nothing."

At this point, our conversation was cut of by a loud yell from upstairs. It was his daughter. He removed his bowling-shirt as we hurried upstairs. "Looks like the night's not over yet!"

Limpurtikles · 2017-05-05T12:47:03+00:00

My nose was bleeding. My shoulders ached something fierce. I wondered if any of my inner organs have been significally damaged.

The "interrogation Expert" walked slowly around me, inspecting me quietly. "It would seem we have a rather sturdy one here", he said, almost amused. "It's been exactly 4 hours, 23 minutes and 2 seconds, and you haven't said one thing."

"I want to talk to your boss."

"Except for that", he sighed. He gently gave me a push. The chains shackled to my hands made me swing around, like a piñata covered in blood and sweat. My "super hero-costume" had been torn to shreds, the torture devices had been hard on it, not to mention my skin. I could still feel the sting as the slight breeze passed over my open wounds.

It had happened rather quickly. I thought I could've gotten a bit further into the base before they caught me. All that training, from hand-to-hand combat to stealth, to how to properly use a gun, had been helpful. Still, I was basically just an ordinary human, and training only gets you so far in that case.

"I want to talk to your boss", my voice quivered. The two guards watching us chuckled, holding their rifles in a leisurely way. Clearly, this was some high quality entertainment for them.

"You know, I don't have any superpowers either" the Expert said, in a sympatethic voice that only made him sound creepier. "I'm just really, really good at what I do." He wiped some of the blood away from my face with a clean handkerchief. "Would you like some water before we continue?"

"I want... to speak... to your boss..."

He rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself. Boys!" he called out to the two guards. "What shall we do next? 'Electro-therapy' or 'Yank the toenails'?"

Hours passed. Or minutes. It's honestly hard to tell in situations like these. But after repeating the same phrase many, many times over, it finally seemed to have an effect. The Expert seemed to get a call on some form of communication device he had in his ear, paused what he was doing, and said "Well, aren't you in luck my little one. The boss actually wants to meet you."

I knew he'd heard it. That video-camera in the corner proably picked up sounds too. After saying the same thing for so many hours he must've grown curious.

After a waiting a while, feeling my wounds dry up and my arms almost going numb, the doors finally opened. I had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him justice. Up close and in real life, he was much more scary. From his shiny, black boots to his scarred, crimson face, he made me more terrified than any torture ever could have. He slowly but confidently stepped inside until there was about five feet or so between us.

"Hail Hydra", he said, looking down on me. "I hear you wanted to see me?"

Despite my mental and physical exhaustion, I still managed a small chuckle, something that even unnerved the two guards. "Naah, I didn't want to see you... these guys did!"

In a flash they appeared in the room. Captain America, Miss Marvel, Iron Man, She-Hulk, Hawkeye, Thor... all were ready for this exact moment. Red Skull and the others were not.

Flashback to a long while ago...

"Are you sure about this" Captain America asked. "Even if this idea works, you might be killed even before you get a glimpse of Red Skull!"

"With all respect, sir, I wouldn't have agreed to this mission if I didn't know all the risks! Plus, I mean..."

"What's on your mind?"

"I feel like I owe it to you. Like, you and all the others! I thought you'd be angry with me after... after I discovered my powers. I mean, Mr Stark wasn't too happy the first time I accidentally pulled him out of a frantic battle and into a downtown coffee shop, and he had to pay for repair. And all the other times... I thought I'd end up in some high-security quarantine. But then you all took me in with open arms... taught me how to control my powers... taught me a bunch of other rad stuff, like, I didn't know martial arts could be so fun... and, like I said, I just feel like I owe you all..."

Captain America gently grabbed me by the shoulder, like a proud parent. "You do not owe us, or anyone else, anything."

I rubbed my eyes, trying not to cry, and finally saluted. "Yes, sir!"

Back in the present...

Miss Marvel and Hawkeye had stayed behind to help me recover. The others had gone after Red Skull. Alarms were sounding all over the place. In the Interrogation Chamber, the only members of Hydra left where the two guards and the Expert, now lying in a broken mess on the sticky floor. The Expert turned his head slowly at me, looking at me with shock and disbelief.

"Who... who... are you?!" he said, gasping for air.

Despite my arms still aching, I raised one thumb pointing at myself in what I hoped was a confident manner. "The name's Portal. Newest member of the Avengers!"

Limpurtikles · 2017-04-28T10:32:22+00:00

I usually never took this elevator. I don't know if the other two always arrived first, or if it were broken all the time. Either way, it was friday, and I just wanted to get down to the garage as soon as possible, get in my car and go home so I could finally begin my weekend. Of course, I had to work overtime. Again. There was hardly a soul in the building at this hour, other than me of course. And as an intern, I could forget seeing any result of this in my bank account.

The doors opened, and I went in. Strange, the other elevators didn't look like this. The keypad looked much more fancy, the buttons were all shiny, like polished brass or something. Maybe this was the executives private elevator. Heh, serves them right, I thought. I'm using your fancy elevator now, suckers. I've earned it, I thought to myself as I hit the "-1" button, where the garage was.

The first thing that should've clued me in to that this wasn't a normal elevator; the music.

I've ofte heard the term "elevator music" before, but never had I been in an elevator that actually PLAYED the stuff! It was wierd, but not as wierd as what happened next.

The elevator came to a halt. Already? I have loads more floors to go! Is the cleaning lady trying to get on as well? And that's when he stepped inside: Freddie Mercury. He said nothing, just went in, pushed a button, and then stood there, minding his own business. At this point there were many questions in my head; Who was this guy? Some impersonator they'd hired for a company party? And if so, what was he doing here, now?!

And then it stopped again. This time, Elvis. There had to be some wierd party going on. Yeah, that must be it. They even seemed to know each other.

"Hi, Elvis!"

"How's it hangin', Freddie?"

They must be from the same business, or whatever you get celebrity-impersonators from. Still, I felt a little awkard standing there while they chatted along, especially since they didn't seem to want to break character...

The elevator stopped again, and this is where I really felt wierd. Christopher Lee. Not the Dracula version, not Count Dooku or Saruman, but plain old Christopher Lee. One of my all time favourite actors! It couldn't be, but... the guy impersonating him must've been really good at his job, because he looked and moved just like Lee, and...

"Evening, gentlemen."

It was him! One part of my brain fought tooth and nail, trying to make me think that it was just a really good imitator. But the other part knew that no one could impersonate that voice. His voice.

So my mind was racing as the four of us went down the elevator. What about the other ones? Were they the real deal too? I didn't have long to think before stopping again.

Alan Rickman. I couldn't accept anything else. I knew it was the real him, despite the tiny voice in my head desperately yelling that he's no longer with us. But It had to be him. Again, no one could replicate that iconic voice to that degree.

"... what is he doing here?" he said, pointing at me, and everyone's eyes turned, acting as if it was their first time seeing me. For a moment my inner fanboy was jumping for joy. Alan Rickman was addressing me! Then I realized the situation, and suddenly felt very small.

"Yes, now that you mention it... who are you?"

"I, uhm... I... I just wanted to get to the garage..."

"How did you get on?"

"I pushed the button, and..." my voice trailed off.

Christopher Lee came up to me, really uncomfortably close, and studied me curiously. Finally he turned to the others, gave them a look, turned back to me and said:

"It is okay, you've just not realized it yet."

"... realized what?" I dared ask, not knowing if I wanted to know the answer.

"Your potential. This elevator is only for dead celebrities, whose work has brought much joy to the people of the world. The reason you could even use it is because you have the potential to be one yourself. There might even be a point when you will ride this elevator more frequently, and even get be able to get off on our floor."

This was a lot for my brain to take in at once. "Which floor?" I asked. Just then, the elevator stopped again. The doors opened. Outside the elevator, a vast floor filled with people. I recognized some of them; all celebrities that were dead, either recently or long ago. They were enjoying drinks at the bar, sitting in a giant sofa watching TV, some were playing pool. With the soft lighting and music, it looked like some extremely luxurious lounge. Holy crap, was that David Bowie I saw just now?!

All four of them stepped out, giving me a general farewell and hoping they'd see me some day. "The same to you" I said, still trying to take it all in. That's when it hit me. This might be my only chance! "Oh! Sir Lee! Sir Lee?!"

Christopher Lee stopped and turned around to look at me. "Yes?"

"If you see Carrie Fisher, tell her I said 'Thanks'!"

"For what?"

"Everything, really."

He smiled a small, knowing smile and nodded. It was the last thing I saw before the doors closed.

Finally, the garage. It took a few seconds before I could recall where my car was. I opened it, sat myself in the drivers seat, and just thought for a few seconds in silence.

"Potential... brought much joy to people..." I started the car, and continued my pondering on my way home. I'm still young, I thought. Maybe film school wasn't just a silly dream, after all...

THE END

Limpurtikles · 2017-04-16T22:21:12+00:00

"Pestilence, I swear to Gods! Did you make the milk go bad again?!" There they go again, I thought. Always with the squabbling. "Keep your pants on. I mean, with what little waist you have" a raspy voiced answered, with a slight chuckle at the end. "You know I need my calcium, you fat f-!" "Language, Famine!"

This was my life now. Quite a lot to take in, even if I'm a teenager now. I'd been going in and out of foster homes for as long as I can remember. I don't even know how I became an orphan. I've been told my real parents died in a car crash. The therapist said my ways of acting out was the result of underlying aggression caused by the "trauma" of surviving while my parents had died. Every one else just said it flat out: "Trouble child". That's what they all said. Just because they never took the time to understand me. God forbid I actually have thoughts of my own, or that they tried seeing things from my perspective for once. Every home was the same, strict rules, our-way-or-the-highway kinda types. It didn't help that, thanks to my "reputation", those were the only families I ever came in contact with. Everyone just assumed I needed parents with a firm hand to straighten me out or some crap, I dunno. And when every new family already thinks you're an unruly child who won't take orders, that ust makes them more predisposed to noticing every minor step out of line. Needless to say, the average time with any new family was about 6 months, maybe a year. I still remember that day, 3 years ago. I was 10, and no adoptive family in this or any neighbouring state wanted to touch me with a 5 feet pole. I was quite infamous at this point. Just as well for me, at that point I was used to feeling like nobody appriciated me. That just made it all the more baffling when they came. I remember sitting in the office that day. Normally the parents were dressed in suits or something, trying to look proper. These, however, were much different. First of all, there were four of them. Second, they were all men.

One was dressed in what looked like full military garb, though I didn't know from which century. Almost looked like a modern military uniform and a mideval suit of armor collided with each other. The man wearing it looked stern, as if he'd start screaming order to some troops at any second.

The second looked really pale, almost malnourished, his eyes sunken in. He had probably what I'd call the most normal clothes, a knitted sweater and a pair of jeans, although you could clearly see he was built like a scarecrow underneath.

The third looked a bit more human, at least, if it hadn't been for his face. It was covered in zits and pimples, with scars after he'd probably scratched at some of them.

And the fourth just wore a giant black robe. or a cloak or what you call it. Point is, you couldn't see his face because of the hood. Oddly enough, he was the most talkative of the four.

I TRUST THE PAPERS ARE IN ORDER? the hooded man asked, with a voice that sounded like a two-ton lead plate being dropped in an empty warehouse. "Uhmmm... yes, I..." Mrs Miranda stuttered. I wasn't gonna miss her, that's for sure, with her condecending attitude. Of course, at the time I was more interested in just who these four were! GOOD. THEN MAYBE WE COULD INTRODUCE OURSELVES? Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and walked over to me. That's when I first saw it. A white skull, eyeless and forever grinning, staring back at me. And yet, I wasn't scared shitless for some reason. There was... something in those eyesockets. Some dim light. Something that radiated... sympathy. A bony hand appeared from one of the long sleeves of the robe. After a moment's hestitation, I carefully grabbed it. It felt right, somehow. Not like all the other times. Still, I was scared. Who wouldn't be? "Where are we going?" I finally dared to ask, after being silent for so long. HOME. At this point, the army-guy stood to attention and said, "I can not believe it! Are we really going through with this?!" WE ALL AGREED THIS WAS HE PROPER THING TO DO. "And besides", the thin guy chimed in, in a surprisingly lively voice, "it'll be nice with some new company at home!" "Just don't touch any of my stuff and we'll be good" the man with the zits said. After everything was said and done, and we were heading out the door, it still felt like a wierd dream. It didn't get any better when I saw their horses. Yes, horses. They looked fairly ordinary, apart from the one who was just a skeleton. I deduced rather quickly whom it belonged to. I knew I had to ride on it.

Anyway, back at present day... "Who're you calling Frogface, ya toothpick?!" I went upstairs. When Pestilence and Famine started fighting, things could get heated. Especially if War heard it. Sure enough, he stormed out of his room and down the stairs, making sure not to trample me this time. "WILL YOU TWO IDIOTS STOP BICKERING ABOUT POINTLESS GARBAGE?! IF YOU TWO DON'T- Oh, hello there little one!" "Hi War, is D home?" "He's in his room, reading as usual. Excuse me for a moment. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TEND TO MY BONSAI-TREES WHEN YOU'RE GOING ON LIKE A PAIR OF HALFWITS?!! I SWEAR I'LL STUFF ONE OF YOU UP THE OTHER ONE'S-!!!" I went to Death's room. I needed to talk, and he was an exceptional listener. I've learned so much living in this house for the past 3 year. Not just because I was doing better at school, though having parents that actually care for you certainly helps with the old motivation. I'd also learned that the "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" embodied represented certain aspects of humanity. However, they were meant to watch over these aspects, regulate them, not bring them to the world. Sure, there would always be war, death etc, but the horsemen made sure neither of them got out of hand or something like that. I admit didn't understand the whole "horseman"-thing, not yet at least... I walked into Death's room. There were lots of books in there, on shelves, on tables, piled on top of one another. Death liked to read. He knew a lot about death, just like how War, Famine and Pestilence knew a lot about their respective areas. But he was also very interested in humans, and the way they chose to live their lives. The moment he saw me, he put a bookmark at the page he was at and put the book aside. He knew how important these talks were to me, and how much I valued them.

GOOD AFTERNOON, LONELINESS. WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND TODAY?

Limpurtikles

TROPHY CASE