Nice to see this revamped again but I forget if you ever posted, what turned munch evil?

More will be explained as this book continues -- that's a promise. I've finally got this story arc mapped out, it's going to get epic(er).

Next chapter is in progress. Should be done in a few minutes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Emperor Essir sat behind a large desk made of what looked to be a conglomerate of metal, plastic, and sloggie poop. The room stretched back nearly fifty feet before reaching a wall covered with portraits—numerous artists’ impressions of Essir wearing debonair expressions. The carpet was still paisley-patterned, but somehow the lack of windows in such a large room made even the carpet seem sinister.

Abe glanced quickly around the corners of the room, noticing all the basics. One emperor. One secretary. Six guards. Two security cameras. No windows. No air vents. No freestanding weapons.

One of the Vamp guards jerked his gun toward the prisoners. “They caused a disturbance in the prison—it seems they somehow cut a slice out of their cell wall.”

Essir looked at the four prisoners and shook his head. “It’s only been a day…”

Abe spat on the carpet. “Twenty-four hours is a million years when it’s your damn prison.”

Essir raised the skin above his eye. “It seems you outsiders cannot keep out of trouble, even in my luxurious prison.”

“We’d rather cause trouble than sit and rot in your butthole of a prison,” Crak snorted.

Abe grinned at the older Slig’s audacity. Essir’s mouth twitched downward. “You know I could—and will—kill you.”

Cloud stepped forward. “Why don’t you get it over with, you F-ing cat!”

Crak, Oner, and Abe grinned wider at Cloud’s In-Your-Face cuss, but Essir looked confused. “What’s a cat?”

The emperor shook his head, leaning forward across his desk. “No, it doesn’t matter. I’m trying to think of what would be the best possible way to kill you…in a way that would be slow…very slow…”

Abe snorted. “We’re your contact with the world outside your empire. You won’t kill us all.”

Essir smiled. “Try me.”

The secretary suddenly gave an exclamation of surprise. Abe, Crak, Cloud, Oner, and Essir turned to look at her. “What the Odd is the matter?” the emperor growled. “You’re interrupting.”

She pointed at a small device on her desk, which seemed to be the more organic-looking equivalent to a Glukkon printer. “It’s printing all by itself, my lord! The mind-link isn’t activated—someone is controlling my editorum!”

Essir made a sharp hand gesture. “Silence, Quessir. It can’t be anything more than a bug with the program.”

The secretary leaned over her editorum, face drawn. “But—but it’s writing in full punctuation—in a language I've never seen before!”

Abe and Oner exchanged a bewildered glance. “Horror movie in motion?” Oner asked.

Abe shrugged. Essir rose from his chair to his impressive full height, extending a hand to Quessir. “Bring me the paper.”

Tentatively, the secretary reached forward, picking up the printed paper at the corner with two fingers. She quickly moved to her emperor and placed it in his palm.

Essir turned the paper and began reading silently. Oner stood on tiptoe, trying to read through the back of the paper. “Aww, can’t we see?”

The emperor lowered the paper, looking the never-serious Slig deep in the eye. Oner stared right back with all the tenacity of a retarded Clakker. “Actually,” Essir said thoughtfully, “perhaps you could tell me what this means.”

Abe felt a tight clench in his gut, as the Vamp emperor moved toward him, extending the paper.

“You, blue one,” Essir said. “You seem to be the leader of this soulless gaggle. Tell me what this paper means—it is not written in our language.”

Abe looked at the paper, trying to remember how to read. It had been a long time since he had read anything other than Glukkon directories in soon-to-be-destroyed factories, but this computer-typed writing was clear and bold and projected a clear message that made Abe’s insides twist through his iron stomach.

Abe, the Vamps should never have tried to meddle in this affair. This is between the forces of light and darkness. Tell them to release you, or they will all be destroyed without mercy, without hope.

The Bringer of Pain

Oh shit, Essir is going to have a ton of righteous glory upon his royal ass soon.

And for the record, thats what she said.

I don't think Munch likes a 4th party being brought into this complicated war.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

As the Ninth Chieftain raised his flashing sword for the blow that would end the life of the foul Keuja, a harsh roar ripped from the mouth of the battered creature.

“I AM THE LAST OF MY KIND!”

The Mudokon paused, just long enough to yell, “What?”

The Keuja’s writhing slowed. “I AM THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD, MUDOKON. I AM THE LAST OF THE DEATHWORMS. KILL ME, AND MY SPECIES IS EXTINCT.”

The Ninth Chieftain felt a flash of what might have been pity. “Why should that stop me?”

“BECAUSE I KNOW HOW IT FEELS, MUDOKON.” The Keuja’s voice was much weaker. “I KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE THE LAST, TO LIVE ON FOR CENTURIES AFTER ALL YOU HAVE KNOWN HAS FADED.”

The Ninth Chieftain’s hand trembled, but whether it was with a surge of emotion or just with age he could not tell. “I was brought here to destroy you!” he shouted. “I was summoned to ‘destroy the oppressor!’”

“HERE, YOUR OWN PEOPLE ARE THE OPPRESSORS. THEY SEEK TO WIPE MY RACE FROM EXISTENCE—MUCH AS THE GLUKKONS DID TO YOU LONG AGO.” The Keuja was starting to stagger forward, shaking the earth beneath it. “WE BOTH KNOW HOW IT FEELS.”

The Ninth Chieftain remembered. It hurt. Infinite separation from life, from his loved ones, from his Mudokonity…from his own soul. Forced to live forever, always feelingless, always alone, always fighting, never allowed to be free…

“Why are you better than me?” he asked coldly. “Why do you have any more right to live than what was granted to me?”

The Keuja was silent for what felt like an eternity; the whirring and wheezing of the Slig tanks had stopped, and when the monster spoke, it was hardly audible.

“BECAUSE THERE ARE NO RIGHTS. LIFE IS DEATH. EXISTENCE IS MEANINGLESS. YOU’VE HAD A THOUSAND YEARS TO CONTEMPLATE THAT, ATHEIST.”

Slowly, the Ninth Chieftain lowered the sword. “Perhaps I acted too hastily,” he said. “Perhaps you are not the true oppressor here…perhaps there is no oppressor…perhaps we all are!”

The Keuja tried to regain its balance. “THE MUDOKONS AND SLIGS ALIKE HAVE AWOKEN ME FROM MY SLUMBER AND ATTEMPTED TO DESTROY ME. THEY KNEW I WAS THE ONLY ONE OF MY KIND, BUT THEY WOULD NOT LISTEN. IN THEIR EYES, I AM A MONSTER. ARE YOU?”

The undead Mudokon kickflipped off the Keuja’s head and drifted soundlessly to the ground. He landed without feeling the dirt under his translucent feet, feeling a new purpose take hold of his mind.

“No,” he said. “You are not the oppressor. The Mudokons are.”

* * *