Of course, those interested in fine writing are encourage to keep on trucking as well. I wrote this yesterday because I had to and it entertained me. Your mileage may vary. Contents may settle, etc.
Death and Taxes
By Parallel HAge 37
*A small hillside covered in sickly grass, plagued weeds and diseased trees sits in the foreground, caught in the murky, mid-afternoon sunlight of Silverpine Forest. Demon hounds frolic mirthlessly in pursuit of an unwary traveler, scrambling in panic up the hillside. It soon becomes clear that the hounds are toying with him. *
*A word of power explodes behind them. The hounds start, whip around to face the newcomer, growling in the disturbing atonalities common to possessed wildlife. A second word of power booms across the hillside, and the hounds choose discretion over death and disappear over the top of the hill.*
Traveler *Wide eyed and panicked*: Oh, thank the light! If you hadn't come when you did I don't think I would have made it!
Hooded stranger: *speaking in a gravely, raspy voice the young traveler is too excited and naive to notice* It was no problem at all, my son, no problem at all. What do they call ye back home then?
Darren: It's Darren sir, and I'm pleased to meet you. *Darren is still visibly shaken*
Stranger: Here Darren, drink from this, it will calm your nerves. *Offering a tonic to Darren, who receives it gratefully and downs it in one gulp. The hooded stranger reaches into his robe, removes a small card and writes "Darren" in large, friendly letters on the face of it. He reaches out an pins the card to Darren's vest, before the other realizes what is happening.*
Stranger: Darren, a quality name, quite fine. *pointing at the card* That is so they know what to call you when you wake up.
Darren: When I wake up from what sir? Do you know of lodging nearby?
Stranger: Of a sort, lad, of a sort, we'll carry you there free of charge of course.
Darren: *Confused, and looking increasingly poorly.* Carry me, why would you do that?
Stranger: Because you'll be dead in about half a minute from the plague I put in your drink.
*Darren, looking alarmed, has fallen to his knees.*
Darren: *ack*
Stranger: *removes his cowl, revealing the cold, slick, unnaturally preserved skin of a Forsaken priest.* There's no need to thank me, my son. Soon you will be born to a glorious new world, where even death cannot defeat you!
*Darren dies quietly, confused.*
Stranger: *Looking off majestically into the distance.* I am but a humble midwife, bringing brave souls into the tender care of our Dark Lady.
*The stranger snaps himself out of his reverie, looking around.*
Stranger: *Mumbling to himself* But this isn't at all what I was here for, just a happy coincidence . . . *He unstraps his ornately carved staff from his back and begins weaving it in intricate patterns over a couple of unremarkable lumps in the ground nearby, chanting a dark spell the living would tremble to hear. The earth cracks, split with seams filled with light, before two sickly golden beams of unholy radiance burst launch skyward, throwing dirt, bones and debris every where.*
*A few moments pass, while the dust settles. One preserved hand, mostly bone, rises up and claws the rim of the newly excavated burial mound. Another, with a little more meat on it, joins it shortly. A Forsaken skull, worms and beetles still tangled in its hair, follows soon after. Gulveris the rogue of little renown pulls himself the rest of the way onto the ground.*
Gulveris: Oh man, what a rush! *He turns over on his back and starts laughing.* Kar, man, that was crazy. *There is no response.* Kar?
*From the other mound, a muffled voice:*
Karibou: Why can't I die?! For the love of all that's unholy, why can't I die?
Gulveris: Why must you always be so negative?
Karibou: You! Your fault!
*A Forsaken soldier in seriously dented armor claws out of the earth, murder in his eyes. He advances towards Gulveris menacingly.*
Gulveris: *laughing carelessly* Oh what are you going to do Kar, kill me?
Karibou: Let's find out! *Kar draws his sword and takes a few practice swings, envisioning how, precisely, he will carve Gulveris into fine pieces.*
*Before Karibou can launch himself towards his adventuring buddy in the interests of science, experimentation and hyper-violent revenge, the hooded stranger barks another word of power, bringing them both up short with a wince.*
Stranger: Gentleman, I did not raise you both simply so you could tear each other apart.
Gulveris: Ah! The undead of the hour, to what do we owe this timely resurrection?
*Karibou is now simply staring at Gulveris, his teeth grinding loudly.*
Stranger: Ah, it is not me you owe so much as the Dark Lady.
Gulveris: Oh, of course, all hail Sylvannus, the Dark Lady of Lordearon!
Stranger: *coughs delicately.* Ah, it is not so much your praise you owe her, but there ARE some tax payments which, I'm afraid, you both are QUITE overdue on.
Gulveris: *Astonished.* Impossible! I paid my taxes in full two months ago! And Karibou's far too much of a square to have skipped it I am sure.
*Karibou snaps out of his murderous reverie and glances around the hillside before finally looking towards the stranger.*
Karibou: Oh no. How many years of taxes do we owe exactly?
Stranger: *Glances through a small book he brought with him.* Ah, gentleman, you both owe 7 years of back taxes I'm afraid, accrued while you took your rest out here in the country.
Karibou: Well, our rest wasn't exactly intentional now was it! *begins muttering to himself darkly about death, undeath, taxes and exactly what he was going to do to Gulveris later that afternoon.*
Gulveris: And how much do we owe, exactly?
Stranger: 40 gold pieces from each of you will be enough to satisfy your debt with the Dark Lady.
Gulveris: Well, that's not so bad, right Kar?
Karibou: *Mimicking Gulveris sarcastically* "That's not so bad, right Kar!"
Stranger: Oh, and, ah, of course 1 gold each for the resurrection fee.
Karibou: Well this is great Gul, because of you I can't die, I can't live and I'm broke. Fantastic.
*The stranger glances at Darren's poor body, and a wave of compassion overcomes him, he is a priest after all.*
Stranger: I'll tell you what, if you take this newborn to the nearest crypt for processing, I'll wave the resurrection fee, how does that sound?
Gulveris: See Kar? It's not so bad! *Gulveris fishes most of his gold out and hands it to the priest.*
Karibou: *Again, mimicking mockingly* "See Kar, it's not so bad!" *Karibou hands over most of his gold as well with a resigned air. The forsaken couldn't die, but the taxmen in Undercity could make the afterlife . . . unpleasant.*
*A screams splits the afternoon air, faintly to the south*
Stranger: Ah! Another soul in need of aid. I am off to continue our great work! Gentlemen, I bid you farewell. *The stranger moves swiftly off, in that unnatural lope most Forsaken seem prone to.*
Karibou: *Looks at Gulveris, now more depressed than anything.* You're like my own personal plague, you realize that don't you?
Gulveris: *Rolling his eyes so hard they nearly pop out.* Again with the drama. You love me with all the passion that cold heart can muster and you know it. Come on, help me with this body. The sooner we get it to a crypt, the sooner we can catch up on what's been happening since we've been gone.
Karibou: Well, it can't be anything THAT interesting if we slept through it, now can it?
*Karibou and Gulveris carry Darren the soon-to-be-reborn off into the distance, arguing re-animatedly. After a short time, the shadows on the hill lengthen, gather and solidify into a tiny goblin and a much larger void of demonic energy, bound with ornate, golden wristbands, staring thoughtfully at the corpses carting a corpse behind a copse of trees.
Ashauss: They'll do, don't you think?
Void Demon: *In an unearthly whisper* Release me. I don't like it here.
Ashauss: *Pats a wristband gently* Soon enough.
