Well... seeking to start this on a positive note, I only hope that someone will read this... so if you do... please respond? at least in some way, just so I can know this isn't a fuitile effort...
TIDES OF ODD...
the hallway was long, dark and stank of the heady fumes of half refined petroleum as the glukkon slipped down the hallway, grumbling all the while. Grimacing as he entered one of the small pools of hideous orange halogen light that stained the hallway at regular intervals, he raised his hand, grimacing and rubbing at the oily stain of dirt and grease that besmeared the bottom of his glove. Cursing (-disliking shoes for the most part and the resulting effects it had on his hands at times like this-) he trundled on down the hallway in his sparse clothing; a sheer sleeping shift and the immaculate, but now stained, gloves stretched across his large hands allowed his limbs a longer, smoother stride than the jerky struggling he normally had to pull off when fighting through the frumpy clothing of his Glokkstar wear, but they let in the chill of the factory something aweful. Grimacing, he bent for a brief moment, tightening his ears to his skull, and flipped the garishly bright peacock hued scarf back around his neck, (the one piece of status he suffered through at this time of night), the tassel slapping his thin shoulder as he straightened to his considerable height once again. He couldn't help grumbling for the ten millionth time about the foregone fashions of his big cheese days, the tastefully designed suits rather than the glitz and sequins of the ball gown nightmares he had to wear now...
"SIR!"
Groaning, the glukkon Mainard turned to glare at the slig striding swiftly down the dark grimy length of the corridor. Mai’s eyes were a strange washed out bluish green glow from deep within their overshadowed sockets- pale at this time of night from hours of sleep still to be slept.
The slig tilted his head upwards, letting his eyes focus in the gloom on those of the glukkon, not a little tired himself... he could barely force them to stay open, their greatest desire to be to slide into slumber once again, and let the world go to hell as far as he cared...
"Sir ya wished there ta be a meeting with tha-" the slig hesitated, ducking his head as he shivered a little at the superstitious nervousness of the moment. "Tha E-Executioner when he got here… he’s here…" noting the glukkon’s less than peppy response, the slig started whining- "ya wanted me ta wake ya when he got here sir…"
"Yes that will be all"
Nodding, the slig shivered a little, anticipating the thought of slipping back into the soft recesses of his sleep sack once again, and turned, mechanics whirring, to stride down the corridor- a sudden whump of hot air brushed him, pushing him back several inches and teasing the scarf back from the glukkon’s neck.
"Um…"
both voices droned out as two sets of glowing eyes turned down the corridor- which suddenly had a much stronger orange glow. The young slig watched, entranced by horror, as a blast of fire suddenly slammed forth from a doorway far down the hall, bathing the wall before it before rushing-
Mainard, his shoulders already pressed hard to the grimy wall of an open doorway, tilted, balanced and, cursing, reached out and spun the slig from before the incoming fireball and into the wall- the slig’s wince was overshadowed by the roaring heat as the fire thundered down the hallway, leaving a swath of superheated air that dissipated and died in moments, the fire drinking so much oxygen that it killed itself moments before it had begun…
Shaking soot from his shoulders, the Glokkstar CEO of Dark Seas straightened, and, without a moment’s hesitation, began cursing so vehemently that the young slig, wincing from the heat and impact, felt his face redden under the mask…
"I WANNA KNOW WHERE THAT CAME FROM!! I WANNA KNOW WHERE THE SPARK ORIGINATED AND WHAT DAMN FOOL MUDDY SCREWED UP AND LET ODD KNOWS WHAT CATCH FIRE!!"
"That one’s easy…" the voice was strange, disturbing, a sickly gentle murmur too low to be heard and yet heard with such crystal clarity, despite wishes to the contrary "third valve- extractor number three… a muddy named…." The slig that wandered into the light seemed to carry a chill about him as he strode forward… larger than normal, though obviously not by any chemical means, the slig was old, older than the twenty odd years his species was clocked at. Gruesomely grizzled and scarred- the hard marks crisscrossing his skin not indeed battle scars but twisted, incomprehensible tattoos burned directly into the old, grayed flesh. "Naaaaaamed…. Danny. Didn’t survive. Suuuuch a pity…." The slig’s eyes burned- his face, bereft of mask, twisted into a grin as the Executioner lifted a glowing reddish rock in his palm. "care for the soul?"
Mai stared down, blinking slowly, at the rock glowing feebly in the slig’s hand. A sound, deep in his consciousness flickered, a fluttering moaning- screaming? –Snatching his hand back, the Executioner smiled again and tucked his hands behind his back. Blinking again and shaking his head, Mainard looked down at the slig, trying as best he might- despite the singing and soot stains on his garb, to stare down the slig smiling up at him.
"I DO so hope you haven’t been grazing among my employees slig…" staring dangerously at the slig, Mai turned and, in a purposely rude voice, spat in a hard tone-
"I’m sure I’ll be very interested in whatever the hell you have to say in the morning- till then- rest well… and slig?"
"Hmmm?" the Executioner’s pleasant derisive amiable tone grated across his conscious like nails on steel.
"stay in your Odd damned room!!"
CHAPTER 2
how long had it been...?
A twisting yawn stretched the Executioners tentacles, spreading till the tendons bunched and rippled under the rough, yellowish skin. the scarlike tattoos ringing the upper parts of his tentacles stretched painfully, tugging at his face as he wilted in his chair, his eyes dark red and sullen. hands hanging over the armrests in weary defeat, he paused... glancing around the room in a small, furtive gesture, he surveyed his surroundings, wary, cautious... he sees nothing. satisfied at the empty surroundings, he pauses, tempted...
it had been what- four days since he had been able to sleep? he had gone longer than that before... but it was so tempting... inadvertantly he leaned back, felt his eyelids begin to droop...
*Awaken. Now*
the sound was less a voice, more of an audible calamity, a carcophanous riot of mind tearing noise only he could hear... a whisper so harsh it gripped him in fingers of mind numbing agony, even as he snapped awake, eyes wide and tentacles spread in sudden shock. Twisting instinctively to look for a figure he knew wasn't there, he gaped stupidly for a few moments, still grasping at the retreating shreds of his few precious moments sleep he had somehow managed to garner. cautious, his voice floated out in a light, low hiss.
"Is there... a problem lord?" he winced as the soft words stabbed into his head once again, condescending and coldly, inevitably cruel.
*A problem. A problem? Yes. Yes- indeed.* No more words were offered. The Executioner sighed. It didn't look like it was going to go easy... Mustering up his ego, he supressed it in determination and, in a gesture he hated with a passion, bowed his head.
"Forgive me lord."
The voice waited, agony even in silence. the agony was always there, usually in the form of a pounding headache that had plagued him for the 90 some odd years he had lived since his... induction. Feeling a tremulous vein of alien amusement, he gritted his teeth... it was not going to be a good night at all. He sighed again, disgusted with this old, enraging game.
"Forgive me lord for taking a time that was not my own, for resting without your esteemed permission it was wrong you who give me so much I who am so little in your esteemed glory-"
The voice hit with the force of a blow, the annoyed disgust and contempt beating harshly at his head.
*you know of my opinions, shakring them all in your miniscule head. you owe me more than you could ever pay. do not seek to dissapoint me again...*
Grasping his aching head, he hissed out the words, snarling. "Yes my lord. All the world to you my lord. Power to the Posessor..."
He could feel the sneer. the pain left, as much as it was going to, fading till it was barely that of the old, familiar stabbing headache once again.
The light was out. Apparently burned out in the Odd's presence, the Executioner wasn't fooled. The alarms hadn't gone off. The light had been deliberate, to leave him in darkness, the temptation of sleep that much more of a torture for him. the odd and his games...
sighing, he leaned back, the chair protesting beneath him in the darkness... it was going to be a long night...
CHAPTER 3
Stay in your Odd damed room... Glowering in the darkness, the red, glowing eyes narrowed in hate. Bastard glukkon. he could snap the damn fool's miniscule neck with a gesture, tear the lifeforce from the body and julienne it before the ignorant idiot's dying eyes... a warning tremble sent an ache through his temples and he quieted, brooding and sullen. not the time to get angry now. he just had to relax... he might not be able to sleep, but he could rest... he had been doing that so much recently...
wait. HE couldn't replace the light... but someone else...
A smirk alighting on his features, he paused, his tentacles spreading in a grin. raising his head, he sucked in a deep breath, and suddenly barked forth in a shouting roar:
"ROACH! GET IN HERE! NOW!!"
one two three... The door shook, the sound of hard impact marking the arrival of the summonee. it did not open, but shook another time. he could just imagine the other figure abusing the door in his inevitable, mindless frustration... so delightful.
Fully cheered up now, the Executioner leaned back, his tentacles caught in a grin as the door opened, swinging back hard and slamming brutally off the back wall. sillhouetted in the ugly orange light, the figure of another slig stood, his powerful frame slumped and his every muscle tight and strained. heaving irately, the figure whipped around, fixing him with an eye slitted in the most smouldering of hate.
"What. Do. You. Want. Now?" Hissing maliciously, the figure leaned towards him, shaking. He held his eyes, unflinching, and let his grin widen. The figure, almost swooning in rage, hissed out the word, barely discernable.
"...sir?"
"Thats better... I need your help for a bit..." his grin, he knew, must be infuriating. it was, he noted, as the figure seethed impotently, waiting for him to continue. "I need you to replace a light bulb for me."
"...That's it??"
"That's it..."
As the figure lurched off, hissing obscenities, he leaned back, thoroughly enjoying himself. perhaps it wasn't going to be quite so bad a night after all...
