I would pay to read this if it was in a store.
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Anyways, really great chapter. Vamps are getting more mysterious as the story proceeds. :D |
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Get everyone out of the city, now!” Edur released the comm. button and swore under his breath. He grabbed the jetcopter’s flight handle and twisted savagely, pulling the copter into a spin away from the Keuja’s reaching tentacles of darkness. He should have expected that monster to attack Denzling before now. That huge monster was practically unstoppable, having destroyed the capital of Glukksonia and hundreds of Sligs and Mudokons only two days before. As a SKRUT, it was Edur’s duty to protect his city and his country. He took a brief glance out the jetcopter windshield at the ground below. The Keuja was still five miles from Denzling, but already hundreds of Sligs tanks rolled forward to meet it, already firing their blaster cannons at the monster that would not die. I could use Oner here, now, Edur realized grimly. Never realized how much that comedian meant to me, until he’s not around anymore. Edur punched in the button to switch frequencies. “Commander D’aan, launch the missiles now!” “Patience, SKRUT,” came the infuriatingly slow reply. “We’re prepping the launch now…” “I can’t guarantee we’ll survive that long,” Edur snarled. “Firing in ten seconds…” Edur suddenly shook in his chair, as did the whole jetcopter, as its spin brought it within reach of the attacking Keuja’s tentacles. The monster sent a vast electric shock through the jetcopter. Suddenly every metal part in the vehicle – roughly 97% of it – was flowing with lightning, and the pain made him scream. Then everything went black. * * * What is to become of a life with no purpose? So thought Stranger, as he stood alone and gazed up at the shining sun above him. He had no purpose for his life. Since the death of King Fragg and the destruction of Mantin City, he had wandered the empty wastelands of Glukkon land, wondering what was to become of a former bounty hunter who was too moral to kill for pay, yet none too moral to join with Abe in his quest to save the planet. He looked down at the double-barreled crossbow strapped to his right wrist, at the Boombat and Stingbee hive placed there, and shook his head. The Keuja was a great threat, and he had helped Abe to slow it down, but still he felt no loyalty to the Mudokon or to anyone else. Was he destined to be a conflicted loner all his life? A question without an answer. His whole life had been a conflict, from his birth as a Steef, his life in hiding, his career as a bounty hunter, his vendetta against Sekto, his return to hunting, and now his quest for personality. But what was he to do? Should he help Abe destroy the Keuja? Should he go after it himself? Something struck him in the back of the head, wiping out all his thoughts in exchange for shocking pain. * * * |
wow,amazing chapter,i think its vamps that hit the steef
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A pretty shrewd observation, Scraby.
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sorry for that jumble of words,i was wrighting at 4 sites,they all asked me something and meanwhile i read your chapter and i swiftly commented...
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Great chapter. I kinda want to know how this "Keuja" looks.
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jacolinn Peraux steered his hovercar across the hilly land of the Vamp Empire. A wealthy businessman, entrepreneur extraordinaire, he practically had cash flowing out of his ears—at least, in his imagination. Someday, when he arrived in Rivermouth, and he opened up his new ale house down there by the coast… He glanced at a video display sign beside the road. “314 kilometers to Rivermouth,” he sighed, and shoved the energy pedal further. Jacolinn switched his steering over to Cruise Control. He rested one hand on the wheel and shook his head, slumping lower in his Slig-skin chair. Maybe Mother was right after all, he thought in depression. When she said to stick to the family trade as an executioner, maybe I should have put more thought into it. The Peraux line—a name literally meaning “one who decapitates”—had been executioners for decades. But Jacolinn had been an oddity in the family: he just couldn’t stand the sight of blood, or death, and couldn’t stand to hear any screams. That was why he’d never become a big man straight away: he couldn’t stand to have slaves in his service, since they needed whipping to work and whipping made screams. He’d always had to scrounge out a living doing menial tasks for little pay, without the use of slaves. But now, once I get this big break in Rivermouth…The thought of arriving in the big oceanside town made his spirits rise again. As he retook control of his hovercar, he noticed there was a being standing on the side of the road. Jacolinn squinted ahead at the figure, and saw it was one of the Fangus species, standing by the road jerking his thumb in the signal for hitchhiking. Jacolinn thought about his response for a moment. Since the only Fangus in the Vamp Empire were slaves, and since all slaves had tracker collars when they were sent out on errands like this, this slave would not dare to harm him. There was no real harm in making some other Vamp’s business run quicker, helping his slave get his chores done quicker. He slowly pulled the hovercar to a stop with his passenger side to the Fangus. The slave was quite large for his species—not as tall as Jacolinn, but much broader across the chest and sporting the unsightly body bulges they named ‘muscle.’ His clothes were fairly ragged and his face tight, but Jacolinn could not blame a slave for being resentful of his position in life. He tapped a button on the dashboard, and part of the hovercar wall dissipated, leaving a fair-sized opening for the Fangus to enter. “On an errand, slave?” he asked, as the Fangus seated himself. The slave turned his head and looked at him, a hard look that made Jacolinn freeze in his seat momentarily. “I,” the Fangus growled, in a voice deeper and darker than evil itself, “am no slave.” Jacolinn swallowed; there was something malicious in the Fangus’ voice. And if he wasn’t a slave…? “Then,” he whispered, “who are you?” “They call me Fangus Klot.” * * * Klot reached out, grabbed the Vamp by the neck, and—ignoring the shrieks of protest and shock—tossed the car’s owner out onto the grass through the open door on the passenger side. Klot scooted into the driver’s seat, closed the door with the tap of a button, and accelerated. He did not smile at the humorous sounds of the Vamp shouting for him to stop and come back; he put the energy pedal to the metal and the hovercar sped across the highway as if it had a demon on its tail. He threw the wheel in a tight turn that turned the nose of the car back toward the Vamp capital city. “Here I come, Emperor Fathead,” he whispered to himself. But soon, his words would not just be a whisper; they would be a roar that all the Vamps heard, when he stood at the pinnacle of the emperor’s palace and threw their leader to his doom. The thought brought the first smile of the month. * * * |
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Back in the crate. Once more at the mercy of their Vamp captors. Abe sat with his feet against the floor, his forehead resting on his knees and rattling on them with every bump. He ignored the pain; he was thinking. How had no one known about the Vamps’ expansions into this region for so long? What would happen to the others while they were prisoners? Would the Keuja continue to strike at their civilizations unchecked? Would the Vamps continue to spread, striking at the Mudokons and Glukkons with the element of surprise on their side? “We have to get out of here,” Cloud said from across the crate, quite unnecessarily. “Any ideas? Seen any weaknesses in the Vamps’ designs?” “Haven’t seen ’em long enough to judge that,” Oner said. “Now be quiet. I’m going to get some rest.” “Those weapons the Vamps were carrying,” Crak said thoughtfully. “I think I’ve seen ’em somewhere afore…” Cloud asked, “Really? Where?” The old country Slig sighed, and produced a sound that was probably a shrug. “Dunno. I’ve lived so many years here on Oddworld, and been so many places in my younger days, it could be any number of strange places.” “That’s not very helpful,” Abe growled. “Well sorry, Mr. Grouch,” the old Slig snapped back. “I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas, either.” Abe banged a fist on the floor of their huge metal crate. “I’m working on it.” “Then think faster,” Oner drawled, in an infuriatingly lazy tone. “Your arguing is disturbing my nap…” Abe reached out one foot and roughly kicked the SKRUT in the back. “Shut up. I’m thinking.” The SKRUT snarled loudly and jumped to his feet. “Don’t kick me!” Abe grabbed at the wall of their transport crate and pulled himself to his full height. “Or what?” “Or you’ll see why they made me a SKRUT,” Oner hissed. All of Abe’s frustration spilled out in one yell. “Loser!” Oner roared, “That does it!” Abe laughed, and spat on his fists. “Bring it on, slimeback.” Their ride came to a sudden halt, and the crate jerked to a stop, throwing Abe and Oner back down to the hard metal floor. Abe snarled at the sudden pain, and jumped back up to his feet, ignoring his new bruises, still ready to throw a punch— “Stop fighting!” Cloud shouted, and Abe paused. “We’re all prisoners together—the real foes out here are the Keuja and the Vamps, not each other!” Abe and Oner faced each other in the dark, each with fists raised. Oner had one foot drawn back, as if to kick, but he did not make a move yet. “The boy’s right,” Crak agreed. “Fighting amongst ourselves won’t help.” Abe lowered his fist, breathing heavily. Then, without a word, he sat back down on the floor of their metal cell and turned to face the wall. He hated being wrong. “Wisdom from the mouths of outsiders,” Oner snorted, and did likewise. Abe said nothing, even as the back of the crate opened, and the Vamps shouted for them to exit their cell. He simply obeyed the command without pause, and dropped out onto the cobblestone street of the Vamp town. * * * |
nice chapters :),hm i amagined that fight that its gonna be a bumpy ride,till the cell stopped
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
His stay in the world of unconsciousness did not last very long; only seconds after the Keuja shocked his copter’s systems into oblivion, the SKRUT Edur came back to the world of the living, only to feel the Keuja’s tentacle whipcrack and open, throwing the jetcopter away like trash. Edur closed his eyes and silently waited for the end to come, for his jetcopter to plow into the ground and for his body to deteriorate in a blinding conflagration. At least no one could say he hadn’t gone out with a bang; it just would have been fitting if Oner was here with him— He abstractly wondered how he’d had that much time to think about it. He blinked open his eyes just for a second—the ground was only a few inches past the hood of his ’copter— But the odd thing was, he wasn’t plummeting any more. Something was holding up his jetcopter, and had done so without any vigorous stop. Edur didn’t waste any time wondering about it; he had always been a Slig of action. Instead, he grabbed his laser rifle and ran for the bay doors, growling, “And the special ops guy lives to fight another five minutes…” He slammed hard on the release button for one of the ’copter bay doors, but the jetcopter had already lost so many of its engine functions that nothing at all happened. With a grunt, Edur lifted his weapon and switched it over to Anti-Armament fire, backing into the cockpit hallway as he took aim at the door. He squeezed the trigger, and the miniature missile blasted the bay door. His helmet’s goggles dimmed automatically at the flare of white light, as the blast ripped away the door and left an opening. Without waiting, he dove through the gaping hole, rolled in the grass, and came up with rifle to his shoulder. The Keuja was nearly half a mile away now; Edur hadn’t realized his tumbling flight in the broken jectopter had carried him that far. The monster continued its slow, destructive march toward Denzling, not realizing that Edur was still alive. And then Edur saw the thing holding up his jetcopter, and lowered his rifle. “What…?” It was a huge Mudokon, but he did not seem to be wholly alive. His exposed skin seemed to ripple and fade in and out between gray and transparent, and the tattered remnants of his toga seemed insubstantial. Besides, there was the fact he was holding up the entire jetcopter just with his two hands… “What are you?” Edur growled, once again raising his weapon. The fadey-outey Mudokon gave a great heave, straightening both arms, and the jetcopter spun away through the air, flying almost a hundred feet by the strength of the Mudokon’s push alone, before it exploded, sending pieces of metal widespread. Edur severely hoped this thing—whatever it was and whatever it would claim to be—was on their side. The Mudokon turned to face him, and it was only then Edur realized just how tall it was. It towered above all other Mudokons, probably eight feet or higher, and the way its biceps rippled when it flexed its fingers showed Edur its muscles. Then he could see its face, and he grimaced. Its face—if you could call it a face at all—was the oddest part: for an instant, the skin would fade to reveal a blue-grey skull, then suddenly fade back into pale gray skin. Its nose was most disconcerting, since it kept fading between an actual nose, and two gaping nasal cavities in its skull. When it spoke, its voice sounded like the crackling of bones. “I am the Ninth Chieftain.” Once before, Edur had heard the old Mudokon legend of the Ninth Chieftain, the one that had missed out on the blessings and received a curse instead: the curse of immortality, never truly alive, never able to die, only able to fade away for certain periods of time, imbued with great powers. Nothing was said to be able to stop the Ninth Chieftain once he went on a rampage, because nothing could kill him. Edur felt a chill run up his spine. “Are you on our side,” he said softly, “or the Keuja’s?” The Ninth Chieftain laughed, a sound like the echo of a stone falling into a well. “I am the enemy of industrialists, Glukkons and Sligs.” Edur felt his breath catch in his throat. This thing was going to attack him, and once he turned his gaze upon the whole industrialist town mere miles away, the legend would ally with the Keuja. Everything was about to fall to pieces in mere seconds. “But I have been summoned.” The ghastly Mudokon raised his face to the sky. “I am to destroy the Keuja…or die trying.” Laughing horribly, the Ninth Chieftain slowly walked toward the Keuja. Edur shook his head and breathed out slowly, wondering if all the legends of Oddworld were all to be released at once. * * * |
nice work plus rep,i like the name, the ninth chiefthain :) sounds mistical
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I got the Ninth Chieftain from Shaman's fanfic "The Old Kingdom," but I based the Chieftain's overall design on the King of the Dead from Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.
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yep,i knew it was something that i saw before but i couldnt remember,hm i at first thought he was a big mudokon just with gray skin,without all of the curses,but at wery first i thought it was a mudokon statue,afther i thought it was a summoned collosus,afther i thought it was a grey mud,afther that i thought its a grey mud that has a face with changes,a bit live,a bit dead
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
Abe tried the bars for what seemed like the twentieth time. There was no mistake about it: the Vamps made their metal with brilliance beyond anything the Glukkons had ever designed. Even after using Cloud’s strength, Oner’s lockpick techniques, and Abe’s detailed search for weaknesses, the bars stood just as strong as ever. He turned away from the prison bars. Crak and Cloud sat cross-legged on the floor of the cell, playing mind games with each other out of lack of things to do. Oner lay curled up on the floor, sleeping. Who would’ve thought that I’d ever get myself stuck in the same cell with three Sligs, in a prison run by an enemy worse than the Keuja? That was his conclusion, that the Vamps were worse than the mighty monster. There were thousands of the Vamps – because, surely, there were other towns – and their efficiency of work was plain to see. Their intent was obviously hostile. They seemed to know a bit about Mudokons and Sligs, since they’d recognized the power of Abe’s chant before he could release the possession orb, but no one had ever known about the Vamps before now. At least, no one had returned alive to tell the tale… A door hissed open behind him, prompting him to turn. Crak and Cloud stopped talking, and Oner grunted, “Wha…?” Abe put on his grimmest face for the displeasure of the armored Vamp guards that marched into the hallway. Their armor was highly polished and a dark red hue, their helmets giving a grim demeanor, though not so grim as the odd-looking pain-inducing rifles they carried. “I was in prison, and you visited me,” Oner quoted. Behind the guards came another Vamp. Abe could tell straightaway that this was no ordinary Vamp. This one was dressed in long, flowing robes made of fine materials Abe could not identify, and though he carried no weapon, the sheer arrogance in his face told the Mudokon that the being was cruel and confident in his position as overlord. “I am Emperor Essir of the Vamp Empire,” the newcomer said, in his accented voice, a growling voice that set Abe’s hairless spine tingling. “Who are you?” “Why should we tell you?” Abe asked. Essir made a dismissive signal to his guards; one of them raised and fired his weapon in one swift movement. Abe ducked out of the way, but the flash of white energy was not aimed at him. It struck Cloud, throwing the young Slig flat on his back. The Slig moaned in pain, the odd energy coursing up his metal-enhanced frame, sending him into spasms. “That is why you should tell me,” Essir replied coldly. “More insolence from you, and I will order my guards to shoot him again…though this next time, it will be set to Kill.” Abe set his mouth in a frown. “If I tell you about us…you’ll tell us about yourself and your race.” “I do not make bargains with prisoners.” “We’re your key to conquering the northern hemisphere,” Abe said, guessing at the emperor’s intentions. “You need to keep at least some of us alive.” The emperor raised the space just above his right eye. “You do not care about your companions?” “They have their purpose.” “Thanks a lot,” Oner grumbled. “And I thought we were friends, stitchlips.” Essir looked thoughtful. “Perhaps a trade-off can be arranged, though it will do you little good. You will all be executed as soon as I have extracted the information I need. If revealing a little about ourselves is what it takes to get this information out of you peacefully, then let it be so.” The emperor turned and exited the prison hallway, leaving Abe feeling grimmer than before. * * * |
Vamp bastards... Too bad Slusk the Mudokon isn't there to rip their throats out! Treating a mudokon like that is dispicable! Nice chapters anyways. :)
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CHAPTER TWENTY
Klot had encountered a problem. Not only was his stolen car nearly out of fuel; since he was a fugitive from the government who had supposedly been killed some days ago, he had no license, and slaves were not permitted to purchase fuel anyway. Technically, he wasn’t a slave, but all Fanguses were regarded as slaves in the Vamp Empire. This could be a…problem, he thought. Then he saw something up ahead. It looked like…another vehicle. He recognized it as a large double-decker transport car, pulling behind it one of the enormous metal carrying crates the Vamps used for transporting slaves. His eyes narrowed, and his hands clamped tighter around the wheel. Never again will I stand and watch as slaves are put under the thumbs of the Vamps, he swore. Never again. He cast his brain to work on the problem. He would be alongside the truck in approximately ten seconds, and he had no gun, his car was practically out of fuel, and there would be Vamps with Inriks in the cockpit. The outside of the carrying crate would be protected by a shield. As the car sputtered and began to slow as it ran out of fuel intake, Klot gave way to an uncharacteristic spasm of emotion, in the form of banging his fist on the steering wheel. An unforeseen consequence of his action was that the steering wheel snapped off and fell into his lap, and the car swung sideways, cutting across the path of the truck as it came to a halt. He caught a brief glimpse of the Vamps in the cockpit of the truck, their eyes widening in shock at his unexpected spin. He was four seconds away from impact. Klot turned, slapped the button to de-energize the driver’s door, and leapt out. He hit the dirt alongside the road in a somersault and came back up to his feet, but before he could turn around, he heard a most unOddworldly crunch as metal hit metal. He thought he’d heard a scream. When he completed his turn, it was to see the truck buried up to its windshield in his car, completely crushing his former vehicle. One of the Vamp drivers was pinned against the back of the cab by a heap of rubble, the other was already throwing open the door and jumping out, Inrik in hand. Klot wished he had a gun. He spat on the ground; for this job, his fists would just have to do. The Vamp saw him, and his eyes widened in amazement and disbelief. “Klot? Fangus Klot! You’re dead!” Klot took advantage of his surprise to dive forward, catching the Vamp around his skinny ankles. The guard screeched and fell forward, and as he came within range, Klot swung up one foot, bashing the Vamp in the face. The guard spun a full 140 degrees in the air and came down on his back. When he did, Klot had one fist raised, and brought it down full in the Vamp’s neck. There was an audible crack, and the guard lay still. Klot picked up the Inrik and moved toward the carrying crate. * * * |
Woot! Go Fangus! But just don't harm the prisoners will ya?
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nice chapter,show em vamps fangus!
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Sorry it's been so long, guys. I'm taking extra classes...who hates biology besides me?
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Klot approached the back of the crate, where the Vamps always kept the door. Ordinarily there would be an energy field protecting the crate door, but since the truck cab was totaled against the car, the energy generator was smashed and the door was unprotected. His new Inrik was only made to injure living flesh, but the small laser cannon built on the side of the barrel pierced the lock with a single shot. He reached out and tapped the button meant to raise the door – but again, it relied on the cab for assistance. With a shrug, he reached out and bashed the door with his fist. The solid metal bent, making a fist-shaped indention under his hand. He drew back and punched a second time, warping the metal further. A third punch tore totally through the metal. Klot stepped up on the back bumper of the truck, thrust both arms inside the opening and wrenched to either side, ripping himself an opening. He stepped inside the hole, lowering his fists to show the Fangus slaves inside that he was not an enemy. “It’s Fangus Klot,” he said. “I’m—” He stopped when he realized that there were no Fangus slaves in the crate. It was empty…at least, in the parts that he could see. That meant there was something hiding in the shadows around him. Klot had barely raised his fists before something roared and leapt at him out of the darkness. It wrapped two arms around his neck and twisted, throwing him to the ground. Klot rolled and came up in a punch. The creature – whatever it was – blocked his punch on its crossed wrists, lashing out in a kick at his groin. Klot swung down both hands and grabbed the creature’s leg, twisting hard. The creature fell to the floor, snarling. “Don’t make me—” Klot began, but the thing swept his ankles out from under him with a sharp sweep and brought him crashing down again. He reached out both arms, grabbing onto the beast’s shoulders – but he realized it couldn’t be a beast when his fingers gripped clothes, made of some rubbery material. “Make one move, and your shoulders go out of their sockets,” he warned coldly. The beast stopped struggling for a second – only to perform an incredibly quick wrench with its entire upper half that spun Klot in the air and slammed him down hard on his back on the metal floor. Stunned, shocked at its martial arts prowess, he could only struggle to regain his feet as it loomed over him. It spoke, in a voice deep and dark. “The Steef will never…be extinct.” * * * |
WoW,nice chapter(i hate biology,cuz there is my main teatcher....)
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It's not that I hate biology, per se, but it takes up so much valuable time I could be using to write "Odd of War."
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Edur watched, unable to keep from holding his breath, as the fabled Ninth Chieftain and the Keuja drew together. Two of the most powerful supernatural beings on Oddworld stared head-on at each other, and ran. Lightning crackled up the Keuja’s spine and raced into its flowing tentacles as it marched across the ground. The towering monster was roaring in a language that was old when Glukksonia was new, launching bolts of energy at its new foe. The Ninth Chieftain ran faster than any mortal being, his ghostly legs blurring across the ground. Easily he ducked and dodged around the energy blasts that the Keuja fired at him. A sword glittering like ice, held in both hands beside his right hip. Edur felt his heart beat quicker and quicker as they drew closer together. The Keuja was a being of unimaginable strength and power, the Ninth Chieftain an undead foe, both of them beings that should not exist, both beings from an age long gone. Only one of them could win. If the winner was the Ninth Chieftain, they could turn their attention to the rebuilding of the kingdom. But if the Keuja was the winner… They could kiss their hopes of life and prosperity goodbye. The Keuja swung every tentacle on its body to point at the Ninth Chieftain, and a bolt of lightning blasted out of each tentacle tip. The sudden storm of energy and light nearly blinded Edur, even through his helmet shaders, and he had to throw a hand over his eyes. He heard roars, screams, the blazing of energy bolts through the air, and then a series of sequenced explosions as each of those energy bolts struck. Even from a quarter mile away, Edur could feel dirt particles bouncing off the back of his armor. Ten seconds after he had covered his eyes, he looked again. The Ninth Chieftain stood atop the Keuja’s head, his glimmering blade buried up to the hilt in the monster’s pate! Edur had no idea how the ghastly Mudokon had managed to make it up there, but it was certainly not a good place to be, even if undead. The monster’s towering frame shook with a fierce roar, swinging its upper body and head, and its tentacles whipped about the Ninth Chieftain, still crackling. The Ninth Chieftain rushed about faster than anyone Edur had ever seen. The Mudokon somehow managed to keep stabbing his pale blade into the Keuja’s skull while ducking and dodging near the speed of light and avoiding all the tentacles. Then Edur realized something: the Mudokon wasn’t dodging all the tentacles. They were just going right through him. Edur found he hadn’t taken into account all the things that being undead can give you. Apparently they included the ability to be substantial to some parts of physics without touching others. And if it feels like hanging around and ruling the world after defeating its greatest threat, Edur thought, who’s to stop him? * * * |
nice one :) good job plus rep
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I thought it would be interesting to have a morally ambiguous undead Mudokon. Thanks to Shaman for the Ninth Chieftain from "The Old Kingdom" fanfic.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“So here’s the plan,” Oner said. Abe leaned against the cell wall, watching him out of the corner of his eye. It was not his way to listen to schemes invented and to be carried out by foolish Sligs like Oner, but in this place of darkness and despair, he had one ear aimed toward the SKRUT. Oner and the other two Sligs stood around the back wall. The SKRUT tapped a hairline crack in the wall, and in his left hand he held a small knife he had managed to conceal in his forearm armor, only accessible by tapping just a particular section. If nothing else, SKRUT armor was the most compact known to Sligs. “This wall plate here has just a tiny crack in it,” the SKRUT said. “But that’s all I need.” “That knife is nothing but a toy,” Abe snorted. Oner looked offended; Abe took pleasure in his outraged expression. “This is the most prime knife you can find anywhere on Oddworld.” “Let’s see it,” Abe said, and closed his eyes. He heard Oner practically fume with anger, but the SKRUT returned his attention back to the wall immediately. “Now once I activate it…” Abe looked back at the Sligs, in time to see Oner flip a small switch built in the pocketknife’s handle. Immediately the blade glowed with orange energy, energy that seemed to flicker and dance in the gloom of the cell. From five feet away, Abe could feel small heat waves coming from the weapon. “Smokeless fire,” Crak whispered. Cloud chuckled. “Genius.” “I know. Invented it myself.” With a smirk, Oner slipped the blade of the knife into the crack in the wall and stabbed it deep into something— “FIRE ALERT! FIRE ALERT!” All of the prisoners whirled to face something that seemed to blast out from all around them. There were no speakers visible, but the voice was loud, coming from ceiling, walls, and floor all at once. “Maybe the guards will come and evacuate us, if there’s a fire,” Cloud said. As the alarm continued to blare, Abe realized what it was. “You fool!” he snapped at Oner. “You should’ve known there would be heat sensors built into the wall!” Oner grunted. “Yeah.” Abe sat down on the floor, settled into his meditative stance, and waited for the guards to arrive. * * * |
nice :) like that fire alarm :D
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You kinda hafta feel sorry for Oner, setting off a fire alarm with his fire knife...
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yep,but ya dont know what an unknown empire has even in a cell
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Just as Stranger was bringing his fangs down at the being’s neck for the killing blow, he stopped. Not because the being had kicked him, but because, in the back of his mind, he knew that his wrath was growing too great. He had no way to know if this being was a friend or foe. To kill without reason would be to drift all the way to the dark end of the scale. Much as he hated to admit it, he was going dark. He went limp, and let the being underneath him throw him halfway across the carrying container. Stranger spun and landed catlike on his three remaining feet and both hands, breathing heavily. “I felt you stop fighting,” the other being said, in a voice even deeper and darker than his own. “Why?” Stranger stood up. “I let my anger get ahead of me.” His conscience felt like a burden. “Are you for the Vamps? For the Glukkons?” The other being laughed, without a hint of mirth. “I know no Glukkons. As for the Vamps…” Stranger waited for the response, but all the other being did was dig his claws into the solid metal wall of the carrying crate and yank back with a roar. When the claws came out, so did a large chunk of the metal. The other being threw the metal out the back of the crate. “I take your meaning,” Stranger chuckled. “The Vamps…took me by surprise as I was…traveling south, and—” “South is not the way for you,” the being said. Stranger folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t take orders…from you.” “If you’re not a fool, you’ll obey this.” Stranger’s brow lowered instinctively, and he didn’t think it a sin to let it stay. “My friends journeyed south….I am on my way to help them.” “If they’re lucky, they’re already dead,” the being said, as he turned and began to walk out of the carrying crate. Stranger followed him; much as he hated the other beings’ emo attitude, he was eager for information. “Explain.” “The emperor is anxious to learn of the outside world, outside the boundaries of his empire,” the anthropoid said, and began walking down the side of the road. “If your friends resist questioning—which is unlikely…—they will be tortured in Vamp style until they tell him what he wants to know.” Stranger nodded. “Then I must rescue them.” “You can try.” “I won’t try. I’ll do it….And in the process…” Stranger laughed. “I will get my revenge on Vamps.” The being suddenly stopped walking, turned around, and nodded to him. “My name is Fangus Klot. Yours?” Stranger smiled darkly. “Stranger. The Stranger.” Fangus Klot’s face took on what might be a smile, if there had been a hint of warmth in his eyes. “Welcome to the party.” Stranger rubbed his hands together. “Now let’s go crash one.” * * * |
haha, they really gonna crash the emperors party :)
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The two emo characters unite...beware of soon-to-follow awesomeness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Tired, disheveled, breathless, and entirely humiliated, Jacolinn Peraux finally staggered into the nearest town. His body quivered madly as he lurched toward the nearest phone booth, wishing for a walking stick. He thought he’d heard on the news that Fangus Klot – the greatest gladiator in the empire, and a great crowd-pleaser – had been executed for treason, but suddenly Klot was right there, stealing his car and escaping for the outer edge of the empire! The injustice of it all stung at Jacolinn almost as much as his tired legs. Never the most exercised Vamp of them all, being separated from his car and thrown out on the side of the road, forced to walk twenty miles, the entrepreneur was fuming and distraught and exhausted all at once. He ignored the multitude of stares that came from the Vamps driving down the road, as he entered the phone booth. Jacolinn groped about for the phone for a moment before finally getting a good grasp on the thing – not before he muttered “Darn thing! Must’ve been a klutz who designed all this!” He lifted the phone and pushed the SEND button. “This is Jacolinn Peraux,” he said, trying to keep the exhausted tremble out of his voice as much as was possible. “Entrepreneur. I need to speak to Emperor Essir.” The voice of the redirector on the other end was astounded. “The emperor? I’m afraid –” “I was attacked a few hours ago,” Jacolinn said. “By Fangus Klot.” “Impossible. He was executed several days ago.” Jacolinn punched the glass of the phone booth, and instantly regretted it. “But I saw him, with my two very eyes! He –” “Could you be certain you weren’t drinking, sir?” “Blast you people!” Jacolinn exploded unintentionally, and then immediately said, “Sorry. But he looked like Fangus Klot, he told me he was Fangus Klot, and he threw me out of the car and left me there.” “How could he jump into a speeding car and throw you out? Are you really, really, really sure you weren’t drinking, sir?” “Of course I wasn’t drinking!!” The tired Vamp was too angry for civility. “He hitchhiked for a ways, then sprang on me and –” Infuriatingly, the line on the other end interrupted. “We’ll send the emperor a notice of your call. Thank you.” “But—!!” The line beeped and went dead. Jacolinn stared in shock at the phone he was holding for a moment. Fools! They thought he was drunk and making all this up? How dare they accuse him, a respectable Vamp, of telling lies to the emperor! Tired and disappointed, he slumped forward across the machine and sighed – and immediately leapt back in surprise, as an automated voice said, “That will be two pounds sixpence, please.” The Vamp feared that he would have no money, after his encounter with Klot, but was pleased to find slightly over that amount, and fed it quickly into the machine. “Stupid receptionist,” he muttered, and turned around. His heart nearly stopped. Standing just outside the phone booth doors were Fangus Klot and a strange, three-legged, two-armed being wearing a battered hat. Both of them were staring at him, both had their arms folded across their chests, both looked angry. Both of them looked as if they were ready to kill. Klot reached out one hand – straight through the glass of the phone booth – and grabbed Jacolinn around the neck. As the Vamp squealed in shock and pain, trying to get the gladiator to let go of his throat, the other being whipped out a pistol and pulled the trigger. Jacolinn knew nothing more, for the rest of his existence – which was entirely no time at all. * * * |
they really went for a kill
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They're twin emo bonecrushers who hold grudges very well, and were just betrayed to the emperor. Emo characters rock on! :)
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hm the emperor "as i feel it" will get crushed when these two guys ravagly enter his throneroom...
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I'll have the next chapter up in a few minutes.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Edur could hardly believe his eyes—but to tell the truth, he had stopped believing them long ago. It was part of his job as a SKRUT. The Keuja stood more than a hundred feet tall, armored tough enough to shield its inner flesh from lasers, with tentacles strong enough to crush houses with one mighty blow, but even it was no match for a Mudokon. One Mudokon. The Keuja was having its brain hacked to pieces by a psychotically possessed, morally ambiguous, sword-wielding, undead Mudokon known as the Ninth Chieftain. While that was a great thing to see, since the Mudokon had just saved him from a messy jetcopter crash, and since the undead Mudokon was their only hope to save Denzling Base from the creature, to see the two supernatural beings fighting it out in the fields was…awing. And more than slightly frightening. * * * The Ninth Chieftain felt a fleeting moment of justice pass through his undead mind. Once he had died a thousand years ago, feelings ceased to exist, and emotions became gray shades of what they once had been, but as he drove his shining see-through blade deep into this monster’s mind, he could almost feel his soul again. The Keuja writhed insanely, its massive frame rocking and bucking in an attempt to dislodge the unwelcome passenger-attacker, arms flailing madly, trying to destroy the Mudokon like every other being it had ever faced in combat—but there was a significant advantage to being undead. Things go right through you, when you want them to. Lightning bolts flashed from the tips of the Keuja’s many arms, bolts that would have destroyed an acre of ground at a touch—bolts that were nothing to an undead Mudokon, veteran of fifty wars before his death, a thousand more after it. Once I am summoned…I do not leave until my purpose is done. Today, my purpose is…to Destroy The Oppressors! “Take this, foul spawn of hell,” he spat, and drew back for the final blow. * * * |
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Abe rubbed the manacle chain against his wrist for the seven-hundred-and-eighth time since the Vamps had clamped it around him. Stupid thing…He felt naked without a gun, without a way to possess his enemies with his spirit, and the handcuffs reminded him too much of RuptureFarms. Remined him too much of his weak days. Back then, he was a retarded, fart-happy, underwear-sporting piece of blue-skinned scum who couldn’t even talk out of his stitched lips, who managed to get out of RuptureFarms due to pure dumb luck. He should have been shot, crushed, and blown up a thousand, a million times due to his stupidity, but somehow the Odd had kept him alive. That was twenty-seven years ago. He had learned much since then. He looked down at the manacle. Or not. He, Crak, Cloud, and Oner sat in the waiting room before the emperor’s office. One Mudokon and three Sligs, united in justice and the fight for freedom, and by the chain that stretched between their wrists. Cloud scuffed his feet on the paisley carpet, while Crak was catching a nap. Oner looked as if he was scratching his wrist with a clawed finger. Abe rolled his eyes and grunted. Leave it to Oner to be a total idiot during the most tense of moments. He glanced up at the tall, broad-chested Vamp warriors that flanked them. They stood coldly at attention, staring silently at the wall, holding their Inrik blasters close to their chests. The door to the emperor’s room swung open, and a sleek-faced female Vamp secretary stuck her head out the door. “The emperor will see you now.” Oner looked up from where he was closely examining his wrist, and grinned at the secretary. “You doin’ anything tonight, babe?” She snorted. “Am I supposed to relate to that?” Oner waved his cuffed hands, jerking Abe and the others with the pull on their chain. “You’re hot enough.” The Vamp rolled her eyes and stepped back into the emperor’s office. Cloud looked at Oner with the eyes of an inexperienced novice. “Um, Oner, are you serious?” Oner grinned and flexed one arm. “Lesson One of the SKRUT, Cloudy boy: Never Be Serious, even in the face of extremely likely death. Especially in the face of extremely likely death.” One of the guards shoved Oner hard in the shoulder, and all four prisoners staggered. “Time to see the emperor, outsiders.” Abe took one short breath, bared his teeth at fate, and entered Essir’s office. * * * |