Post by Carnely on Aug 18, 2005 5:40:21 GMT -5
Those were dark weeks, full of fear, uncertainty and doubt. Armagg-Odhin overdid his daily destruction of life, the universe and everything; Retroverse vanished, leaving its Gifted denizens huddled in little pockets of reality. Faint threads of thoughts arced between the barely alive beings. "Will the worlds return? Will anything be the same after this great disaster?"
The dark wait dragged on for what seemed like years. The stranded Gifted Ones had no idea how much time had passed; they strove to maintain lines of communication with friends, hoping they'd survived Armagg's ill-fated rampage. The religious, holy and unholy alike, performed their rituals begging the deities for things to return to normal, but the gods must've died first - neither Sikkar nor the dark ones spoke to their followers. Occasionally the most unlikely characters, trolls, fighters and the like, announced they've had a vision from a higher power informing them of the state of things outside the stranded islets of existence, but barely anyone believed them.
Some mourned, convinced that final death awaited them; some maintained hope for a positive outcome. Some desperately clung to the shreds of the old reality, gathering their minds together like they used to at the North Gate of Keystone. Still, it wasn't the same. Nobody died, nobody asked for help; everything that went on was purely imaginary. Age-old jokes which used to make everyone laugh suddenly rang hollow.
Then one day a great sound went through all the minds: the world returned! The Gifted Ones suddenly found doors appearing on the edges of their little parcels of reality and ran out to watch the universe unfold. It was like a symphony of sights, smells and sounds almost forgotten, true life returning to the lands. It was a time of much rejoicing and no face was clouded with worry.
Apart from one.
In the Sentinel Guild a burly muridan sat dejectedly behind his desk, blankly staring at a mountain of paperwork left over from before the great tragedy [for the world had lost a few days as it repaired itself, and cases the law enforcers thought solved flew out of the archives and placed themselves on their desks anew]. This behavior was most unlike him. The rat didn't turn his head even as loud clanking of armor announced the arrival of a Fallen werewolf, who approached the muridan and laid a heavy paw on his shoulder.
"What's up, Carnery? Why the rong face?"
Carnely sighed, absentmindedly toying with a paper bat folded out of a report. "I have post-destruction anxiety."
"I could beat you up if you think it'd herp", the werewolf offered.
"It's not like this, Zea. What if I won't measure up anymore? What if I've lost my touch? What if I'll never lead a party of friends to wacky hijinx ever again? My life's lost its purpose!"
Zeamass eyed the back of the rat's head suspiciously. "I'm sure you didn't forget how to die rike a Sentiner, ratty."
Carnely cringed in anguish. "What if I did though? I might've lost my Gift!" Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "I know. C'mon, Zea, help me out here, I need a distraction."
Zeamass followed the agitated rat to the oaken door marked with brass letters proclaiming it to be the office of Gilgal Radisgad, head of the worlds' police force.
"Now: we go in, I start putting on a line of bull, you accidentally topple one of his piles of paperwork. Got it? Goodoh, let's go!"
The bemused werewolf allowed Carnely to drag him into the office. The rat, standing at attention, started listing the cases that un-solved themselves over the time it took the universe to return; Zeamass felt Carnely's tail nudge him surreptitiously on the shoulder and against better judgement gave a discreet push to the nearest mountain of scrolls, which did indeed topple, scattering parchment all around. All three Sentinels yelped in unison, some more genuinely than others, and jumped to pick them up. Out of the corner of his eye Zeamass saw Carnely's tail dive into Gilgal's pocket and retrieve something small. Having put the paperwork in order, the officers left Gilgal to stew in righteous rage at Armagg-Odhin and headed back to Carnely's room.
"I knew the old guy had to be taking some kind of medication, he's been head of Sentinels for years now... aha! Better than I thought, it's Va1i*uM! The most powerful magical anti-anxiety pill ever made! Here, have one, I guess I need a bunch..."
The rat pushed two little pills into his maw and handed one to Zeamass, who dropped it into the wastebasket. "I don't need that, ratty. I feer good arready."
Two heads appeared in the doorway. The one closer to the ground belonged to a vulpin, the one above to a sleek selkie.
"What is going on here?"
Carnely grinned, the little bottle disappearing somewhere on his person. "Nothing untoward, Mei. I was just feeling a little anxious after the universe-wide crash, I guess I might need therapy to get me back on track. How'd you think, does the guild have a therapy budget for traumatized officers?"
"Well, I could give you therapy for free." Meiris turned away from the door. "Call in the Brute Squad!"
"But Mei, I am on the Brute Squad! I can, and do, give myself this form of therapy often enough... now I need something not as hands-on, as it were."
Three pairs of eyes zeroed in on Carnely's face. If suspicious looks could kill, the dreadlocked Sentinel would be knocking on Sikkar's door in an instant.
"I was thinking of Mrs Froyd's House of... er... Wellness and Physical Therapy, up in Nineveh. I hear they provide different types of activities for their patients... er..."
Carnely turned and leapt through the convenient open window. A variety of heavy objects smashed into the spot he was standing a moment before, crashing sounds obscuring the patter of ratty feet running at full tilt towards the arch of the docks.
Several days later a muridan wearing a strategically placed Sentinel badge was spotted on the streets of Nineveh. A satisfied grin lit up his hairy face and he swaggered as confidently as ever. Mrs Froyd's House now bore the official seal of Sentinel protection; the physical therapists were indeed excellent.
The dark wait dragged on for what seemed like years. The stranded Gifted Ones had no idea how much time had passed; they strove to maintain lines of communication with friends, hoping they'd survived Armagg's ill-fated rampage. The religious, holy and unholy alike, performed their rituals begging the deities for things to return to normal, but the gods must've died first - neither Sikkar nor the dark ones spoke to their followers. Occasionally the most unlikely characters, trolls, fighters and the like, announced they've had a vision from a higher power informing them of the state of things outside the stranded islets of existence, but barely anyone believed them.
Some mourned, convinced that final death awaited them; some maintained hope for a positive outcome. Some desperately clung to the shreds of the old reality, gathering their minds together like they used to at the North Gate of Keystone. Still, it wasn't the same. Nobody died, nobody asked for help; everything that went on was purely imaginary. Age-old jokes which used to make everyone laugh suddenly rang hollow.
Then one day a great sound went through all the minds: the world returned! The Gifted Ones suddenly found doors appearing on the edges of their little parcels of reality and ran out to watch the universe unfold. It was like a symphony of sights, smells and sounds almost forgotten, true life returning to the lands. It was a time of much rejoicing and no face was clouded with worry.
Apart from one.
In the Sentinel Guild a burly muridan sat dejectedly behind his desk, blankly staring at a mountain of paperwork left over from before the great tragedy [for the world had lost a few days as it repaired itself, and cases the law enforcers thought solved flew out of the archives and placed themselves on their desks anew]. This behavior was most unlike him. The rat didn't turn his head even as loud clanking of armor announced the arrival of a Fallen werewolf, who approached the muridan and laid a heavy paw on his shoulder.
"What's up, Carnery? Why the rong face?"
Carnely sighed, absentmindedly toying with a paper bat folded out of a report. "I have post-destruction anxiety."
"I could beat you up if you think it'd herp", the werewolf offered.
"It's not like this, Zea. What if I won't measure up anymore? What if I've lost my touch? What if I'll never lead a party of friends to wacky hijinx ever again? My life's lost its purpose!"
Zeamass eyed the back of the rat's head suspiciously. "I'm sure you didn't forget how to die rike a Sentiner, ratty."
Carnely cringed in anguish. "What if I did though? I might've lost my Gift!" Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "I know. C'mon, Zea, help me out here, I need a distraction."
Zeamass followed the agitated rat to the oaken door marked with brass letters proclaiming it to be the office of Gilgal Radisgad, head of the worlds' police force.
"Now: we go in, I start putting on a line of bull, you accidentally topple one of his piles of paperwork. Got it? Goodoh, let's go!"
The bemused werewolf allowed Carnely to drag him into the office. The rat, standing at attention, started listing the cases that un-solved themselves over the time it took the universe to return; Zeamass felt Carnely's tail nudge him surreptitiously on the shoulder and against better judgement gave a discreet push to the nearest mountain of scrolls, which did indeed topple, scattering parchment all around. All three Sentinels yelped in unison, some more genuinely than others, and jumped to pick them up. Out of the corner of his eye Zeamass saw Carnely's tail dive into Gilgal's pocket and retrieve something small. Having put the paperwork in order, the officers left Gilgal to stew in righteous rage at Armagg-Odhin and headed back to Carnely's room.
"I knew the old guy had to be taking some kind of medication, he's been head of Sentinels for years now... aha! Better than I thought, it's Va1i*uM! The most powerful magical anti-anxiety pill ever made! Here, have one, I guess I need a bunch..."
The rat pushed two little pills into his maw and handed one to Zeamass, who dropped it into the wastebasket. "I don't need that, ratty. I feer good arready."
Two heads appeared in the doorway. The one closer to the ground belonged to a vulpin, the one above to a sleek selkie.
"What is going on here?"
Carnely grinned, the little bottle disappearing somewhere on his person. "Nothing untoward, Mei. I was just feeling a little anxious after the universe-wide crash, I guess I might need therapy to get me back on track. How'd you think, does the guild have a therapy budget for traumatized officers?"
"Well, I could give you therapy for free." Meiris turned away from the door. "Call in the Brute Squad!"
"But Mei, I am on the Brute Squad! I can, and do, give myself this form of therapy often enough... now I need something not as hands-on, as it were."
Three pairs of eyes zeroed in on Carnely's face. If suspicious looks could kill, the dreadlocked Sentinel would be knocking on Sikkar's door in an instant.
"I was thinking of Mrs Froyd's House of... er... Wellness and Physical Therapy, up in Nineveh. I hear they provide different types of activities for their patients... er..."
Carnely turned and leapt through the convenient open window. A variety of heavy objects smashed into the spot he was standing a moment before, crashing sounds obscuring the patter of ratty feet running at full tilt towards the arch of the docks.
Several days later a muridan wearing a strategically placed Sentinel badge was spotted on the streets of Nineveh. A satisfied grin lit up his hairy face and he swaggered as confidently as ever. Mrs Froyd's House now bore the official seal of Sentinel protection; the physical therapists were indeed excellent.
