Sunday, December 29, 2013

Red: Originally Written on December 14, 2011

Going about posting all my old stories here, and figure I might as well toss on a bit of commentary onto them.

This was the first story I wrote for my character, Redamous, and it is far from the last one. It's easily the worst, with god only knows how many spelling errors(which, for the sake of preservation, I refused to edit despite my want to), grammatical errors, and so on. Also, I'm fairly certain it commits one of the cardinal sins of writing like this, that being using a lore character. But hey. There ya go.


Cold, of course it had to have been cold. He sighed, the tavern would be open to him all night, if he had the coin to keep the drinks flowing. He waited a few minutes, and finally headed in. He saw there was a fair amount of people, but not too many. He walked up to the bar as casually as possible, and leaned in on it.

The bartender sized him up quickly, "What can I get you?" the man behind the counter asked in a low growl.

"Rum," answered he answered, shivering. He decided that in case he got thrown out later, he might aswell be warm. Glancing up and down the bar, he was happy to see it was empty. He gave the bartender a quick smile and retrieved his mug, setting coins on the bar.

He cringed the second he felt a presence behind him, and the air went out of him as a large shadow passed over him.

The barkeep smirked, nodding at the new arrival, "Well, the only man who doesn't drink returns."

The man chuckled in a voice deeper than any he'd heard before, almost like a growl, "Give me a break Reese!" the man bellowed, "I buy rounds for the house from time to time, now don't I?"

The barkeep nodded slowly, letting a short grin show before pointing back at the original man, "Anything else?"

"No," he said, almost shaking from fright, he took a sip from his mug and glanced over at his new companion, almost spitting out his drink.

The new arrival wasn't so much a man, but more a beast that walked like a man. He was covered head to toe in hair. His shoulders broad, his long head stuck out of his body, and he stood much higher than any other being he'd seen.

The beast grinned at him, showing off a row of sharp, pointed teeth. "You should see your face!" he laughed, "Your eyes are bigger than a doe's!"

The man let out a small laugh, almost a cry.

"You aren't from around here are you?" the thing inquired.

"N-no, s-simply passing through, heard there might be work up north in Hearthglen." the man stammered.

The thing nodded, extending a clawed hand. "Redamous," he said, "But most folks'll call me Red," he chuckled, "Didn't mean to frighten you." he added with a smile.

The man nodded, slowly shaking the hand, as if Redamous might try to attack him at any moment. "Graham," he managed to say as he looked at Redamous' eyes, noticing they were glowing a bright blue, "Your o-one of those, er, deaders, aren't you?"

Red smirked, nodding, "Guess that's one way to put it."

Graham nodded, "How'd you, er, you know..."

"Die? Now that's a story, but to to tell you the truth, I'd say my whole life was a story."

The bartender raised an eyebrow leaning onto the bar, "Oh do tell," he said sarcastically, "I got all night you know," he chuckled.

Redamous laughed, tapping his head, "Now just you remember, there's still some holes, here and there, can't even recall my own name." he pulled up a chair, and sat down. Graham followed suit, happy to see he might be here awhile.

"Now then, where to start?" he mumbled, "Oh yes!" he exclaimed, "Gilneas, we begin in Gilneas!"

I was born and raised in the greatest nation in the world, far to the north, Gilneas. My father was a farmer, raised by a farmer, and I'm sure he would have wanted me to farm, and much of my early life was spent in the fields, dreaming of adventure.

I recall when the Greymane Wall went up, though I was very young, when I was small, but I was too young to be involved in politics, and my parents always left it simply put as "We can do fine on our own."

The days dragged endlessly it seemed, my mother made sure I was educated, teaching me the basics of most school subjects, she always wanted me to be able to "Make something of myself,". I'd always enjoyed reading and she made certain there was always text around the house.

About every other weekend or so we'd pack up what extra produce we had and make our way down to the Market District. On occasion we'd stay overnight and go to the Cathedral the next day. Faith was never forced on me, but I still believed in the Light, perhaps not as much as others, but it was still there.

This went on for years, weeks, months, they all flew by, if you'd asked me during this time, I would have complained on how slow the days went, but now I see how fast it all went by.

When I turned eighteen, when I was at a pivotal moment in my life, I made a choice. I could have tried for higher learning, or gone into an apprenticeship, but no, there was still that young boy in my heart, screaming out for adventure, and because of that, I made a decision I question to this day, both in a good light and bad.

I enlisted.
In my opinion, everyone has that moment in their lives, that acts as a hinge, pointing them in the direction your meant to go, this was mine.

Basic training wasn't the torture I'd heard it to be. It was in no way fun, but it wasn't the nightmare I'd heard about. When given the option I chose to be a field medic. My hopes were that my mother's wishes of me receiving a higher learning mihgt be fufilled by this.

As time went on, I had a terrible feeling in the back of my mind. Though I wanted excitement, insided I dreaded the chance anything may happen. About three months after my 'tour' started, I began to see the strange world of politics that surrounded the nation, almost always involving the Wall.

One side supported keeping the Wall up, and they held fast to the beliefs we could, and would survive on our own, that we didn't need to get involved with the world outside. The other, cried out, claiming there would be point where we couldn't support ourselves, where we would be forced to bring it down. I did my best to stay out of it.

On occasion, a fight would break out, and once in a blue moon some blood was spilled. Of course only so much pressure could build up before things began to boil over, and soon enough an uprising had begun.

It lasted at most, three days, totalling of the casualties suggested that at most, thirty people died.

I recall sitting in the Military District tent I was assigned to, about ready to doze off into a nice nap after a dull day, when suddenly shouts filled the air, people screaming for doctors. I jumped to my feet, my thoughts racing. Was this a drill? No, couldn't have been, we'd never had drills like this before. My sanity almost escaped me as I exited the tent, people were dragging wounded, here, there, everywhere.

Someone motioned me over, and I bolted to the spot. Kneeling down, I tried to make sense of what happened. He was covered in cuts, but I finally decided that had been caused by him being dragged here across the cobblestone lined streets. His clothes were bloody, and I nearly fainted when I saw the hole in his side. I swallowed my lunch for the second time that day, and went to work, patching, and repairing the wounded area.

From person to person I went, mind blurred, enough moaning to drive some to their breaking point, until, finally the last had been treated and soon I collapsed onto my cot. Sleep pulling me into a dreamless darkness.
The next day I was awoken bright and early, handed a gun, some ammunition , and a sword. I was assined to a small squadron, and sent into the streets to begin rounding up the rebels. We were informed they were armed, but advised to attempt to avoid resorting to violence.

As we walked, the silent, dead streets a feeling of unnerving calm hung in the air. The silence pressed down on us through the day, and when the sun began to sink low in the sky we began to work our way back. Somehow along the way, I must have taken a wrong turn, but it wasn't until minutes had passed that I noticed I was alone.

I looked, squinting to try to see further in the growing darkness. Footfalls echoed down the street, and by the now rising moon I spotted figures, moving together. My companions! I first thought, almost crying out, but as the silhouettes moved closer I noticed none wore a uniform. One of them was carrying what appeared to be a rifle, the gleaming metal reflecting in the now risen moon.

I took depserate action, spying a bridge and jumping over the railing, I hid under it. My breath held, I listened in the damp darkness, and released my breath once I'd heard the small posse pass.

I dared not leave my hiding spot until daybreak. Where as the night before sleep had pounced on me, this night it was focused on keeping it's distance, after an eternity, my eyes closed and didn't open again until dawn. I picked up my rifle from where it had fallen in my slumber, and looking it over gave a low moan, I tried the trigger and uttered a curse, it had jammed from the moisture.

I tossed the now useless piece of metal aside, and worked my way back up to the road. Deciding it to be the safer route, I began navigating a narrow alleyway. As I rounded a bend, I came upon a group of rebels, and clinched my sword. Suddenly they all jumped up, letting out a large cry. I ran twoards them, assuming an attak, plunging my sword deep into one's stomach.

I spun around my sword gliding right into another's side, turning again, I saw one jumping for his weapon, which I kicked away. Missing his mark he hit the ground with a thud. I attempted to plunge my blade through his back, but he rolled just in time. I swiftly kicked his gut as he tried to leap for his weapon again, and could hear the air plunge out of him, I finally was able to stab his heart and he lay still. My face drenched with sweat, I tried to remain standing, but instead fell to my knees, my weapon clattering to the ground. I looked at what I had just done, and vomited.

Soon enough, a person came running down the alley, screaming "Cease fire! there's an order to cease fire!" I let out a moan, the screaming man entered the area I was in his eyes widening.

"These men were alive but minutes ago!" he cried, tears beginning to stream down his face, "They were cheering with joy but moments earlier!"

My heart sank, they weren't ambushing me, they were just happy the fighting had ended, my thoughts became clouded, and soon enough, I passed out.
The bar had grown silent, everyone's eyes focused on Red as he told his tale. Near the end of his speaking his voice had taken a sorrowful tone.

Graham looked at his drink, which sat, still almost full, he took a sip, and shook his head, pushing it away.

Reese set another mug on the counter, "Let it set too long," he chuckled grimly.

Graham nodded at him, and looked over at Redamous, "So that's how you died? As a sentance?"

He gave a sad smile, shaking his head, "Oh no, what happened to me for killin' those three was a minor punishment, considering death was always on the table." He let out a short sigh. "That is simply the first part of the story my friend." he grinned, "It gets better though!"

Graham similed, "That's good to hear," he muttered.

Redamous nodded, smirking, Graham noticed that he had a hat on, obviously too small for his large head, with holes cut in it for his ears, Red took it off and set it on the bar, scartching his head. "Now where was I?" he muttered. "Oh yes..."
I groaned turning over on my cot. Maybe today of all days, I'd open my eyes and be back home. I sighed, and looked around. No, it was still the cell I'd been in for what had to be three days now.

I sat up, perhaps it would all end today, after the trial, I thought. Someone knocked on the door before entering.

I looked at him, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He motioned for me to follow, and I got up to do just that, groaning. I felt so stiff, this had to be how the dead feel, I thought.

I was led out ot a hall and my hands shackled. As we alked down the long corridor, I glanced around, the other cells lay empty, before we exited outside to an open courtyard. I was put into a carriage, and it pulled off.

As it began moving, I wondered if they'd make it quick. I prayed they wouldn't force a slow death on me.

Finally, we stopped, and I was lead up the steps of Greymane's Manor. The large doors were pushed open as we approached. AS I entered, I saw how big of a crowd had gathered, the entire upper floor was filled.

Upon seeing me, the crowd went into an uproar, booing, and many spat on me. As I had found out days earlier, then men I'd killed had been quite popular.

When I was finally told to stop, I was in the center of the room, in front of me a few yards stood a table, chair, and a few other things.

A few minutes passed before finally Greymane, the king himself, strode down the large staircase. He took his seat at the table, and cleared his throat. The crowd seemed not to hear, as their roar grew louder. Greymane stood up, and looked around the room, clearing his throat again. This feel on deaf ears.

"Quiet!" he finally yelled, his autorative tone echoing around the large roo. The crowd feel silent at this. Greymane shot angry glances around the room before sitting back down. He looked over some papers that had been left on the table. Finally he looked up at me. "Quite the thing you did." he said calmly.

I nodded, my head hung low. He gave me a sad smile, and I could hear a slight bit of pity in his voice, "Why'd you do it?"

I brought my head up to face him, and retold the whole tale, throughout it he scribbled on a few sheets of paper, until finally I finished. A slight murmer ran through the crowd, but this stopped when Greymane shot a glance up towards the upper floor.

After a short time, the king rose, nodded to me, and walked up the stairs, and out the back. After a few minutes has passed, he returned, and shortly afterwords, he spoke.

"I find you, guilty on three charges of murder." he began, as my head slowly sank, "But," he said, my head moving up slightly, "Under the circumstances, I could not find death to be the proper sentance."

My jaw by now had gone slack, he wasn't going to have me killed. What then? I thought, prison, or torture perhaps.

"After much thought, I decided, you are to be sentanced to work in my house, until I decide otherwise." Greymane declared.

I was shocked, looking to the upper floor, where I saw my expression mirrored. I looked back to Greymane, who gave me a sad smile and nod.

Months went by quickly again. Most of my duties involved keeping the manor clean, and occasionally running errands into town. I would've been content if it went on like this forever.

After about half a year, though it came to an end. I was dropped off in the Market District and given some money for room and board. The moment the carriage had pulled away I felt a dozen cold eyes on me, looking around, I found there were many more than that.

I walked the streets for most of the day, most seemed content to ignore me, other's shot me passing glances filled with hatred. After about noon, though, someone came from behind me, and began pushing me, leading me from the city. My thoughts blurred, what was happeneing?

When they stopped pressing me forward, I turned around, not knowing what to expect. When I saw here. As I was trying to piece things together, she suddenly hugged me. My eyes widened. I asked why she was doing this, and she released me.

She looked down nervously, "I'm so sorry," she stated, "You don't deserve being treated like that."

I looked at her, "I earned that shunning," I said.

She shook her head, "You didn't know...."

I nodded, "I didn't, but three people are still dead."

"There were other's who died, you weren't the only one to take a life. They're just focusing on you, and that's not right!" she rebutted. I stared at her, awestruck, trying to find words. "Do you have a place to stay?" she questioned.

I shook my head, "Can't say I do,". She smiled, I tried to force myself to say no when she invited me to stay with her. I tried, but failed. She began leading me back tot he city by the hand. I laughed to myself as I walked the streets with her, hand in hand.

That night stood in perfect contrast to the day. I ate well, I laughed, and overall just felt good.

She asked me what I planned to do, which forced me into thinking on what so far I'd tried to avoid. First my thoughts drifted to working in town, opening a practice perhaps.

She gave me a sad smile, "I doubt, to be honest, too many people would visit a doctor they'd accused of murder.

I nodded, she was right. I thought more, "Only other thing I've ever done in my life is farm." I finally said.

"That could work," she agreed. The conversation ended soon enough, though I still thought on it as I lay, trying to sleep. My parents had recently decided to move into town, as they grew in the years and had yet to sell their lands.

As I worked it over in my head, I sat up slightly, looking across the hall, where she was sleeping. As I sat there, I knew taht if I were to go on, I'd need to work her into whatever I planned.

The next day, I began to working on organizing, getting documents in order among other things. By the end of the week, I was a land owner, I had started the planting, and had proposed. In the middle of the next, the fields were all seeded, and I was working them hours a day, and I had been married.

My life was again a blur. The days ran together, it seemed, but this time the work was rarely as monotonous as it had seemed before. In my free time, I hunted in the woods nearby. By selling the excess from this I slowly chipped away at the mound of debt I'd formed.

Within' a year, we'd added another to our family, and a few years later, another. Looking back, it was the greatest time of my life. I slept every night with a smile. Thinking on it now I'd wished I'd savored it while it lasted, but at that time, I'd figured it'd have lasted alot longer than it did.
Graham blinked, comics back to reality, he'd been picturing the scene, clearly, taking in every detail. Looking down he saw that this time, he'd been able to finish his drink. Even though the night had dragged futher on, the bar hadn't emptied, if anything it filled even more.

He glanced over at his companion. Red still sat, but now it appeared that he had something in his grip. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was a hat. Red seemed to be simply running his hand over it, though the smile and distant gaze suggest something deeper.

Graham simply watched, not saying anything. For the longest time Red continue, until he finally blinked. Red turned his head, seeming dazed as he looked around the room, though in seconds he regained his composure. Red seemed to notice Grahma watching, and gave a slight grin.

"It was a birthday present," he said, motioning to the hat. Graham simply nodded. He watched Red return the hat to it's resting spot on his head. Graham noticed Red's ears poke through the top. "Had to maim it alittle, after the change." Red chuckled.

Graham nodded, "When exactly did that all happen? I take it you haven't always been like...this?" he said motioning to Red.

Red nodded, the expression on his face gaining a slight sad tone. "We're gettin' there," he said, "Where did I leave off?" he asked, jokingly.

My routine of farming and hunting hardly ever changed, though a new addition to the cycle, drinking, did eventually come along. I don't recall how exactly I got started, but I recall how I would spend many a night at the local pub, before stumbling on the long road home.

This reached it's peak one night, when I arrived home, only to find my children still awake. My wife and I entered a heated argument, which ended when one of the kids ran from the room, crying.

The next morning we discussed it, my wife and I, more privately. After she'd informed me of my actions the previous night, I decided on the spot I needed to stop.

I decided to journey into the woods soon enough, I'd found hunting cleared my head in the past. As I slowly walked my usual beaten path, I saw something shoot across the path, yards ahead. I readied my rifle, this beast was large, lumbering on four legs, and I was sure it's pelt would bring in a fair amount.

As I continued further I constantly checked to my sides, I usually found solace in the silence of the woods, but when on an animal's trail, I'd always found silence to be a terrible thing.

Finally, I stopped, trying to find any trace of a sound, but there was nothing to be heard. Suddenly a being the size of a man jumped down from a nearby tree attacking me. I screamed, the once silent forest now filled with the sounds of my horror. In my panic I fired a shot, which was soon stuck in a nearby tree.

The thing clawed my face, it weighed atleast twice as much as me, but I managed to toss it off. Quickly I scrambled for my weapon. I wasable to retrieve it and make it to my feet. Looking back the thing had began to circle me, much like how I'd seen wolf packs do in the past.

I raised the gun, loading a shot. The being suddenly rose, now standing on it's hind legs. At this point it readied it's front claws, which I noticed were more comparable to a person's arms and hands than to legs and feet. Suddenly it pounced again, eight daggers rushed towards my face. I fired the shot, which made it's way into the creature's shoulder.

It let out a howl, I covered my ears, dropping the gun. I almost ran in fear, but decided against it. Leaping for my gun I saw the creature limping towards me, claws at the ready. It was easy to see he wasn't happy.

I found the gun, loaded it, turning around just in time to fire a shot straight into the beast's chest. It feel to the ground, clutching it's now bleeding abdomen, I heard it whimper before it lay still.

It was at this point that the pain struck me. I collapsed to my knees, grasping the torn flesh in agnoy. My blood was everywhere it seemed, and I feared passing out.

Finally I was able to get a grip. Tearing my shirt into strips I nursed my wounds, and soon enough I was limping back home.

When I arrived, my wife was horrified. She nearly screamed when she saw me, blood stained, pants and all. I lied, claiming it aws nothing, that a wolf had put up a good fight, that it'd caught me off guard. I worried she'd see through my ruse, but she just nodded, and brought me fresh clothes. As I changed, I wondered how far from the truth I'd strayed.

That night, was one of the greatest of my life. I was happy, I was alive, and with my family, who all seemed to share my joy. When the night finally drew to a close, I couldn't have been happier.


When I next awoke, I was alone in the wods. A large pike thrust through my chest. As I tried to think back on how I got here, my thoughts seem to blur. Slowly what had occured began to come to me.

The first thing I could recall, was waking up at hom. My head had been clouded even then. As I pushed myself from the ground, questions ran through my mind, how did I get here in the middle of the front room? What had happened? Where....where were my pants?

As the room I was located in came into view, my stomach lurched. Blood, there was blood everywhere. I began back pedaling slowly. Suddenly I looked down, and found myself vomiting. They were dead, all of three of them. Did I do this? I thought to myself, I had to have done, no, perhaps someone had robbed us, and was penning the blame on me, yes, that'd had to be it.

I glanced around, no forced entry, I rushed to a window, looking for any signs of life. In the distance I saw flock of torches coming up the road. They'd be coming for me, I knew that much.

I fled out the back of the house, dropping to the ground in agony. I could feel my muscles contracting in one huge spasm. I ached, and screamed as I felt a shift in my very bones.

At this point, I neared blacking out, but instead seemed to shift perspective. I now seemed to be looking down at a creatrue, much like the one I'd fought today.

It ran towards the woods, howling as it approached the tree line more of it's kind emerged. I watched them, run like a pack of wolves for a week, until a stray guard patrol became their target.

The guards lost none of their numbers, leaving one of the beasts still breathing, as they retreated back to town. I found myself back in the present now, the last besat was me.

Looking around, I saw the last of the guard had scurried away, leaving me here. Thinking on it, I deserved it. Laying there, thinking, I was able to find peace, knowing I'd be with them soon.

"The details of my return are the average tale of one of my kind. Light's Hope Chape and all that." Red finally finished.

Graham looked at him, noticing his clace gripped tightly around his chain. Red glanced Graham's way, and he cleary saw the sorry in Red's eyes. "Quite the story," the barkeep commented.

Red nodded, "It don't show me in the best of lights, but it's all in the past, I'm who I am because of it, and I see no reason to hide it." he said. "If I get asked about it, I'll generally tell whoever asks," he grinned, "Though mosts folks are content with leavin' it bloody well alone."

Graham nodded, and glanced out the door, "Looks like the suns coming up now." he muttered.

Red pulled out a small pocket watch, "Well, look at that," he muttered.

"So what do you do now?" questioned the barkeep, causally.

Grinning, Red said, "Fate decided to drop me back into the military, though with more work of the grunt variety, then again, can't say I prefer anything else."

The other man laughed, "Figure that's what I'll be stuck with up in Hearthglen," he smiled, "though nothing compares to an honest days work."

"I can't argue with that." Red said, he sighed, "Well, need to be off, find something to file a report on to make up for doin' nothin' all night." Red rose and exited quickly. Outside, a whistle, and the sound of wings could be heard, though something was off about the wings, and like that, Redamous was gone.


As he walked the halls of Acherus, Red's usual smile adorned his face, he'd always wondered why he was so happy, especially after all he'd done. Where most of his kind were content with being emotionless, he was almost always smiling and happy.

He shrugged, it was nothing to dwell on. As he passed the Blood Quarter he gave the disciples a passing glance, their mentor was raving on as usual.

He laughed, the usual now would have been maddening before.

As he passed a desk, he made sure to toss the file he was carrying under his arm onto it, more reports for the pile. He shook his head, he'd have gone crazy by now having to read the countless reports his COs had to run through.

He nodded to a passing Knight, planning out his day. Herbs, he needed those, he had some experiments lined up for later. He passed another desk, and a slight grin crept onto his lips. Perhaps he'd find the strength to file for demotion.

The want to file was almost a running joke, just for him. He'd always had a rule, follow orders. The thing he liked about this rule, is he could bend it. He could always follow orders, but he could do it how he saw fit, so long as they were completed he followed his rule. But filing for demotoin was a different animal all together, and he debated whether doing so wasn't following orders.

He sighed, if he was going to do it, today wasn't the day. His walking finally brought him to the balconey.

As he stood there, looking out over the edge, he sighed, another part of his life surfacing. This one before the unit, before anything really.

He'd stood, almost in this exact spot, contemplating. Looking out, in much the same way he did now, he considered jumping. He'd had heard of the unit, and even submitted to join. But he'd had no response. The recruiter had walked up right behind him. The conversatoin slowly turned to the unit, and what he was going to do with the forseeable future, and eventually he joined up.

Since then, he'd slowly, and unwittingly worked his way up a few ranks, and he regreted none of it.

Everyone has a point in their life, he thought, that points them in the direction they're meant to go. Years ago, he'd experienced his. Really, he still didn't know where he was headed, he was just along for the ride.

And he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

The Accountant's Ledger: Entry 5

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File selected: Log 5. Audio Log 4. Subject: Fear and Loathing.

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“You ever scare somebody? Seen 'em jump, or just go ramrod stiff? Funny as hell. I mean it. Just try scaring somebody. If you don't laugh, then you have no sense of humor. I don't care if you think I'm nuts for liking my job, liking to scare somebody's just a naturally funny thing. Not just that, but it's got other uses too. Makes people get all panicky if you're scaring them in a serious situation. Makes them freak out, makes them make mistakes, and if you're lucky, they'll do something that's really stupidly funny.

“Since I won't name names, 'cause that'd be kriffing hypocritical of me, and if there's one thing I'm not, it's a hypocrit. Usually. Mostly. Sometimes. Alright, not all the time, but still. For this situation, I'm gonna keep shut on who it was. Don't know why, considering no one's gonna ever hear these. Lets just call them...Reporter. That works. It's not very subtle, but I'm only a subtle person when it's good for a job. And trust me, it can be good for a job. Sorry. On subject. We'll get to that later.

“So yeah. Freaked someone the kriff out. Made it seem like I was gonna get all mad and stuff. Maybe gonna off 'em. Maybe gonna hurt 'em badly. It's been a long time since I've seen someone shake like that. Seriously. They had to grab their arm just to keep still. It was freaking hilarious. Give someone the impression that they've got reason to be worried and they will be. Some people can take that kind of thing, which is boring, and others can't. Guess my favorite of those. I'd give you two guesses, but that's two too many.

“Back on topic. She ended up running off for a call or something. Someone else who was watching her, apparently wanting to talk to her too, talked to me a bit. Didn't get the point, I guess. Some freaky two personality or some weird armor or something else going on with them. Apparently they were still organic but yeah. Was kinda weird. They walked off right after they told me to not make threats towards miss Reporter. I'm really scared. Just outright terrified. Not.

“I like to think that everybody's scared of something. And I'm sure as hell not afraid of threats or whatever. There's no point. They wanna threaten me, whatever. I don't make threats. If she got a mark put on her head? I'd consider taking it. If anything because it'd be interesting, maybe. I'd have to think about it. If anything, I know she'd be all paranoid by that point. So at the least I'd have the chance to watch her shake and panic again. By that point, though, bet she'd be a hell of a lot more armed. If she wasn't, I figured her to be way smarter than she actually is. If you're walking around unarmed with a mark on your head, you're either stupid, or arrogant. And there's not much of a difference between the two.

“Arrogance might as well be stupidity in plenty of situations. Makes you blind to a bunch of stuff, and makes you ignorant to the possibility of you getting your ass kicked. Also? It makes my job tons easier. But also less fun. I know I come off as arrogant all the time. I like to think I'm just 'confident', because I'm more than willing to acknowledge the fact that eventually, somebody's gonna be able to do better than me, and I'll probably be dead. And I'm perfectly fine with that. Circle of life. Live. Die. It'll happen. Do I want it to happen? Hell no. What do you take me for, suicidal? I mean. I want it to happen eventually, but not now. Sure as hell don't wanna end up all old and stuff. Boring.

“And at the rate I'm going? Gonna have an entire bar full of people wanting me dead soon enough. A lot of them because they don't agree with my uh. 'Beliefs'. Guess when you get joy out of killing people a bunch of people don't like you? I can't even begin to wonder why! I mean. It's almost like I'm a freaking nut or something. They ignore the fact that there are plenty of people who go around bragging about it. Like, say. An entire freaking culture, made up of kriffing idiots in a constant state of wanting to argue about who's got more skulls or whatever it is they go on about. I don't take pride in my work. I enjoy what I do, and I do what I do because I enjoy it. But it's still killing people. And that's just part of life.

“Not really overly concerned about not being Miss Popular, either. Or Misses, I guess. Considering. Whatever. Not a priority. Far from it. Popularity isn't good in a job that requires you to be ending lives. Makes things complicated sometimes if they see you in a crowd and think you give a damn about conversation. Piece of advice, that. Another piece? Emotional. Connections. Suck. When your 'best friend' or whatever gets a price on their head, what are you going to do? Defend them? Do you understand how stupid that would look, especially if you want to look like a professional. And that's what this job should be about. Being a professional. Now, some people say professionals are polite. I say those people should go kriff themselves, because they're complete idiots. If you wanna be polite about murdering someone, you're more kriffed up than me. And I'm a kriffing psychopath. What you need to be to be professional, if you ask me? Know what you're doing. If you don't know, find out, or don't act like you know. Acting like you know can put you somewhere that isn't pleasant, when you actually need to know. Be efficient. Be quick. Be deadly. And at the end of the day, do all your taxes so that you don't have to deal with the dumb collectors. Have terms, and make sure you get to work within them. If people want a professional, it means they're willing to accept them.

“I can't make any promises that that'll work. Hell. I won't make any promises, considering no one is gonna see these, 'sides me. You might say 'what if your datapad gets sliced?' Well if that happens, either I let it happen, or someone is going to need a box about their size, and a hole in the ground to put it in. Bang.”

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Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Shadowrun: Vera

"It is my very favorite gun."

There's a reason you never tell anybody you've named a weapon. Actually, I take that back. There's multiple freaking reasons, not least of which is they stare at you, followed by the inevitable question "You named your gun?" People've been naming weapons for eons. Get over it.

That is of course the rabbit hole question. If people decide to leap in, then you're bound to have a few more. Tell me about the gun. How'd it earn its name, or why do you call it that. Where'd you get it. Why the hell did you name your freaking gun.

So what is it? It's an assault rifle. Make and model's hard to tell with how much it's been modified since its original purchase, but if I had to take a guess, it's something along the lines of a Yamaha Raiden, updated to have increased accuracy when you're aiming down the sights, with a scope, smartgun capabilities, a built-in suppressor, and an added dual magazine. If that's the case, someone's added a longer stock, and a more refined barrel.

So where it get its name? Vera, like the woman who was her owner prior to myself, can be extremely loud, eats bullets like nobody's business, has a problem of being aimed at things that I'd much prefer she wasn't aimed at(myself being one of them), and has probably killed a ton more people that I'm entirely unaware of before I even knew she existed. You wanna talk and swap crazy ex-girlfriend stories, I'll toss that one out there. Grade A nutjob, wrapped up psychotic, with a dash of cuckoo. And wielding a decent sized assault rifle. She presently is no longer with us. Considering the fact that Vera got shot by her gun. Ironically enough not the rifle, but the pistol she kept under her pillow.

I would say that maybe she won't try to smother the next guy with his own pillow while he's asleep. But there isn't a next guy. Word to the wise. If you plan on killing someone, don't leave your pistol within reach of them, unless you're using it in the act.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

The Accountant's Ledger: Entry 4

[[Accessing Datapad...

Username: dmalcolm

Password: *********

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File selected.

Opening file: 'Log' 4/Audio Log 1. Subject: “Marriage and Love”.

Starting playback...]]

“I. Am kriffing tired. Of every freaking marriage that I have to keep hearing about. I am tired of all this lovely dovey crap. All of the damn planning that people keep doing, all of the stupid rings people keep wearing, and of all the damn 'I love yous' and everything else. I swear, if I had ten credits for every couple I saw who was getting hitched, I could buy enough booze to kill me. But I hear it all the kriffing time.

“Let me tell you something from four years of marriage. Ain't. Worth it. You wanna settle down for no good reason. Oh. Wait. I'm sorry. You wanna settle down because you wuv somebody so much that you just can't live without them or some BS thing. Do you idiots not get how boring that sounds? To just stop and settle? What the hell are you gonna do all day? Cuddle and knit or something? Why? What does it do for you? Hell, maybe it's for tax purposes! Is that it? Doubt it.

“And half of you idiots that talk about settling down? You won't. A lot of you idiots talking about getting married? Might not. And if you do. How long's that gonna last, I mean really? It's only a matter of time before you slam face first into a brick wall, and get bored, and then what. Oh, I can guess. With the way everything else works everywhere else in the galaxy, one of you'll probably get possessed or kidnapped. Have fun with that. Might wanna prepare ahead of time. Or something. Never know.

“'Oh but how would you know it's pointless'? Because. I can guess. Because I know how easily people get bored. And it's only a matter of time, for all of you 'I'm gonna settle down' idiots. It's a matter of time, before you get bored, and you do something either stupid, or something more exciting than sitting on your ass. And good for you. Do that. Probably all the excitement you'll be getting, outside of kriffing. Which apparently for some idiots is some sort of pass time. Seriously. You people call me crazy and you kriff constantly for fun. That can't be healthy. In the slightest.

“'But I love them'! But you love them? What the hell is love? Do you know? It's something your brain came up with to justify you mating with someone for life, for the sake of making offspring. That's what your little romance is all about, in the end. That's what all romance is about in the end. Kriffing. Children. Dead. Then those kids can do the same thing, and woo hoo, continuation of a species. Big kriffin' win all around, right? Hey. Whatever you wanna think, I guess. We all know my opinion isn't yours. Far from it.

“Doesn't help that people get way too worked up over these things. What to wear, what music to play, who should I invite, where should it be, what will my ring look like? When the hell'd you all get so vain! It's annoying! No one cares but you! 'Oh she looks so beautiful'. Yeah. I'm sure the worms that'll be eating your corpse eventually'll think of that. Enjoy that thought. Really. Hope you do.

“Take a piece of advice from me. First piece of advice on marriage? Don't. Do. Not. End of story! Life's so much simpler now for you! No more significant other? One less birthday to remember! One less gift to buy on Life Day! One less person you have to worry about getting brutally murdered by people like me because they ticked somebody off for some dumb reason and got a price put on their head, followed by a bolt through their brains! Though if that happens, hey, can't say I didn't warn you.

“Second piece. Keep it simple, stupid. That's a saying. I think. Somewhere it probably is. What are you gonna wear? Who cares? Why do you need music? Why does anyone need to be there? Should matter to only two people. Screw everyone else. Not literally, please, all of you kriff-obsessed people. That's still disturbing. Where? Hell if I know. Somewhere that doesn't have air that'll kill you, and that doesn't smell like a garbage dumb. So preferably not Quesh, or Hutta, I guess. Again. Why does it really matter. Only one other person should matter.

“What qualifies me to criticize all of you, and say this stuff, you're asking? Married. Five years. Five. Years. So yeah. I think I've got a bit of experience compared to you. Alright it's not the most normal of marriages. So what? Ain't seen my husband more than a few times over that five years. You know what that means? We never fight. We never argue over dumb things, we never get bored of each other, and we never have to worry about getting hitched or attached again! Perfect marriage, thank you very much.

“No. I don't even 'love' him. Quit saying I do.”

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