Telemachos
06-05-2006, 07:00 PM
A man in shredded rags stumbled into the bar and sat alone with his head in his hands. I didn't want to serve him but my fellow bartenders were busy so I hopped over the bar in order to take his order. Before I had the time to ask what he was drinking he uttered "Whiskey."
I grabbed a bottle of buckshot and poured it into a shot glass but he refused it saying, "No, by the jar."
From the second this man walked in I knew he was going to be trouble and there was no way I was pouring him a jar of whiskey to exascerbate my problems. As an introduction to me ordering him to leave I asked, "Who are you stranger. What are you doing here and why have you come?"
The man said nothing but glared up at me looking directly into my eyes. Nothing terrified me as much as looking into this mans eyes. In them I could see the burning souls of countless men writhing in agony as their flesh bubbled and boiled in pits of flames. Working up as much courage as is humanly possible I barked at him, "Please leave."
He put his head back in his hands and muttered, "Whiskey."
I went around to the back of the bar as if to grab a jar to pour the whiskey into. But I did not grab a jar. Oh how I now wish I had grabbed a jar and not my gun! Even though he was facing the other direction I sensed that he knew I was aiming my boomstick directly at his spine and even though he knew what was coming he did not move. Taking aim I shot him three times in the back.
The concussion of the bullets ripping through his spine, tearing through his lungs, and bouncing off his ribs did not move him a centimeter or even cause him to take his head from his hands. A black oil began to pour from his bullet wounds.
The man sat there for minutes without moving. The other patrons which had sprung from their seats were gathering to see why I shot him. They were saying that he was dead for certain and had died sitting in that position. Nobody could survive something like that. A curious little gnome started to collect the oil spurting from his wounds into jars. With glee he said "I'm going to make a fortune off this stuff, its the purest oil I've ever seen."
A few more minutes took place and people came in from the streets to see what the ruckous was about. It seemed like the more people who came in the more oil kept gushing out of this mans wounds. The entire floor was covered in the dark liquid and more and more gnomes were collecting this oil in jars.
A brave gnome went over to lift the hood from the man's head in order to put a jar under his mouth to collect the oil dripping from it. The gnome probably looked into the man's eyes because he jumped back and stumbled over a chair falling into a pool of oil. Then, like an ant who suddenly bursts into flame under a magnifying glass, the gnome caught fire.
There was no time for anyone to escape. The flame spread like wildfire from oil puddle to oil puddle inside the well packed bar. People were trampling one another in an attempt to leave but they did not make it. As people started to scream in pain and torment the man finally rose to his feet in order to speak.
In a booming voice audible above the shreaking and crying the man said, "Suffer wretches! Your audacity and greed shall be your doom. This town will perish at my hands and nobody will be spared. Not the old, not your children, and especially not you bartender. But you barkeep, you I will keep for last so that you can watch as your family and friends are torn limb from limb by firey demons. I am Telemachos and this is the end of the line."
I was in fact being spared by the flames that now completely engulfed the bar and he let me run out. I ran as quickly as I could to my house where my family sat around the hearth enjoying their supper calmly. Bursting into tears I cried out to my wife, "Dear God what have i done." I ordered my wife to douse the hearth's fire and quickly gather things to leave.
My son sat looking at a plant on the window sill. He called me over and we both watched as the plant dried up and died. The branches of the plant started to change becoming metallic and rusty. It soon took the form of barbed wire and it started growing along the walls like ivy. Soon the rusty wire engulfed the walls of my entire home and we were trapped like cows awaiting the slaughter.
Now we wait. The air reaks of burning flesh and I can hear him laughing outside. The laughing nears. What do we wait for? What happens at the end of the line?
((This is my introduction to my character Telemachos that I've had posted on my guild's website for a little while and I thought I'd come out of the closet with it. Some of you may recognize my inspiration for this story. Anyone heard of a band called Murder by Death? Well a song or two by them gave me some ideas for this.))
I grabbed a bottle of buckshot and poured it into a shot glass but he refused it saying, "No, by the jar."
From the second this man walked in I knew he was going to be trouble and there was no way I was pouring him a jar of whiskey to exascerbate my problems. As an introduction to me ordering him to leave I asked, "Who are you stranger. What are you doing here and why have you come?"
The man said nothing but glared up at me looking directly into my eyes. Nothing terrified me as much as looking into this mans eyes. In them I could see the burning souls of countless men writhing in agony as their flesh bubbled and boiled in pits of flames. Working up as much courage as is humanly possible I barked at him, "Please leave."
He put his head back in his hands and muttered, "Whiskey."
I went around to the back of the bar as if to grab a jar to pour the whiskey into. But I did not grab a jar. Oh how I now wish I had grabbed a jar and not my gun! Even though he was facing the other direction I sensed that he knew I was aiming my boomstick directly at his spine and even though he knew what was coming he did not move. Taking aim I shot him three times in the back.
The concussion of the bullets ripping through his spine, tearing through his lungs, and bouncing off his ribs did not move him a centimeter or even cause him to take his head from his hands. A black oil began to pour from his bullet wounds.
The man sat there for minutes without moving. The other patrons which had sprung from their seats were gathering to see why I shot him. They were saying that he was dead for certain and had died sitting in that position. Nobody could survive something like that. A curious little gnome started to collect the oil spurting from his wounds into jars. With glee he said "I'm going to make a fortune off this stuff, its the purest oil I've ever seen."
A few more minutes took place and people came in from the streets to see what the ruckous was about. It seemed like the more people who came in the more oil kept gushing out of this mans wounds. The entire floor was covered in the dark liquid and more and more gnomes were collecting this oil in jars.
A brave gnome went over to lift the hood from the man's head in order to put a jar under his mouth to collect the oil dripping from it. The gnome probably looked into the man's eyes because he jumped back and stumbled over a chair falling into a pool of oil. Then, like an ant who suddenly bursts into flame under a magnifying glass, the gnome caught fire.
There was no time for anyone to escape. The flame spread like wildfire from oil puddle to oil puddle inside the well packed bar. People were trampling one another in an attempt to leave but they did not make it. As people started to scream in pain and torment the man finally rose to his feet in order to speak.
In a booming voice audible above the shreaking and crying the man said, "Suffer wretches! Your audacity and greed shall be your doom. This town will perish at my hands and nobody will be spared. Not the old, not your children, and especially not you bartender. But you barkeep, you I will keep for last so that you can watch as your family and friends are torn limb from limb by firey demons. I am Telemachos and this is the end of the line."
I was in fact being spared by the flames that now completely engulfed the bar and he let me run out. I ran as quickly as I could to my house where my family sat around the hearth enjoying their supper calmly. Bursting into tears I cried out to my wife, "Dear God what have i done." I ordered my wife to douse the hearth's fire and quickly gather things to leave.
My son sat looking at a plant on the window sill. He called me over and we both watched as the plant dried up and died. The branches of the plant started to change becoming metallic and rusty. It soon took the form of barbed wire and it started growing along the walls like ivy. Soon the rusty wire engulfed the walls of my entire home and we were trapped like cows awaiting the slaughter.
Now we wait. The air reaks of burning flesh and I can hear him laughing outside. The laughing nears. What do we wait for? What happens at the end of the line?
((This is my introduction to my character Telemachos that I've had posted on my guild's website for a little while and I thought I'd come out of the closet with it. Some of you may recognize my inspiration for this story. Anyone heard of a band called Murder by Death? Well a song or two by them gave me some ideas for this.))