Odd of War

[Lord Stanley]

Sorry it's been so long, guys. I'm taking extra classes...who hates biology besides me?

[Lord Stanley]

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.”

* * *

[Scraby]

WoW,nice chapter(i hate biology,cuz there is my main teatcher....)

[Lord Stanley]

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."

[Lord Stanley]

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?

* * *

[Scraby]

nice one good job plus rep

[Lord Stanley]

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.

[Lord Stanley]

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.

* * *

[Scraby]

nice like that fire alarm

[Lord Stanley]

You kinda hafta feel sorry for Oner, setting off a fire alarm with his fire knife...

[Scraby]

yep,but ya dont know what an unknown empire has even in a cell

[Lord Stanley]

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.”

* * *

[Scraby]

haha, they really gonna crash the emperors party

[Lord Stanley]

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.

* * *

[Scraby]

they really went for a kill

[Lord Stanley]

They're twin emo bonecrushers who hold grudges very well, and were just betrayed to the emperor. Emo characters rock on!

[Scraby]

hm the emperor "as i feel it" will get crushed when these two guys ravagly enter his throneroom...

[Lord Stanley]

I'll have the next chapter up in a few minutes.

[Lord Stanley]

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.

* * *

[Lord Stanley]

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.

* * *

[STM]

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

[Lord Stanley]

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.

[Lord Stanley]

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

[Hulaabeo]

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.

[Lord Stanley]

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

[Lord Stanley]

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.”

* * *