Sign in to follow this  

Another Day in the Life

Recommended Posts

Barnabus didn't move.

He hadn't moved in what he could only imagine to have been months. The chains were too tight to do any more than thrash violently in what little space was afforded him. The cold feel of Saronite at his back was a constant reminder of the confines of his metal tomb. How deeply had they buried him? Where? Was there any marker at all? His thoughts began to race again only to be silenced by the cold rationality of his situation.

There was nothing to do but wait.

Wait for what though?

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Thought came back to Barnabus. He had lost himself to madness again. This time he had wound up thrashing and rolling onto his side. The runebound chains still held his cold unliving form bound within this prison. How much time had passed this time? He didn't know. Another thought slowly came to him though. What would happen if someone did find his tomb? He had serious doubts as to whether he could control himself or not. Shifting once more he rolled back onto his back.

He realized his mistake the moment it was made. The dull throb of what could only have been pain lazily made itself apparent. A number of bones in his one hand had snapped under the combined weight of his own body and the chain he was bound in. If he could have moved his arms at all, he would have been able squeeze free of the bindings that held him so long. Now, it was just an inconvenience. Another slow ache.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Incessant humming woke the interred Barnabus. Was he doing this? No. It wasn't Malthasia either. He had not seen or heard his maddening apparition in some time. She had nothing to feed upon now it seemed. His one saving grace. Still...what was the humming noise? What could possibly make that much noise as to reach him in his earthen prison?

A loud crunch. The twine in his cheeks shifted as he lifted his head to the ceiling of the saronite shell he was trapped in. The humming grew louder. Muffled voices were beginning to emerge. Only faintly could he make out the noise through the metal.The humming became clearer and more obnoxious. A machine. Someone was digging here. For a faint moment, Barnabus began to smile. Maybe at last he would know freedom again. A dream he could barely believe could be real. Still, a nagging thought tugged at him. The warning came suddenly in his mind as he remembered who else had been locked away. He struggled against his bindings and his own mind as the digging grew nearer and voices clearer. He may have even kept control had it not been for the gigantic metal claw that crashed through his steely coffin lid and into his ribs.

That sharp sudden shock to his system was too much. Especially after so long. A grisly smile spread across his contorted vile lips. Barnabus once again slept.

The Harlequin though, it only laughed. It laughed as the rune bound chains held his form in place so long clanged loudly at his sides. It laughed an unwholesome disgusting sound no soul could truly make. As it laughed, ice began to form round its body and in its hands...


Albinn Cheapwick was not happy. Like most goblins, he was short, green, and had a number of bad habits. Cracking a smile was not one of them. The day was a bust. Lazy workers, cheap second hand machines, now this...whatever it was they'd dug up. The Venture Co. foreman scratched his head as he looked down at the mess as he walked closer. The crowd forming around the digsite should have been busy moving earth and looking for good solid mineral deposits. Instead these gawkers were busy wasting his time. And time was of course, money.

He shoved his way through to survey the damages before really laying into them all. That would come in time. A broken excavator would not be tolerated or overlooked by his superiors. Nor would it be by himself. Turning his attention to the hole, Albinn puzzled. He'd seen the foul steel before, but never in this shape or in a place like this. A saronite box buried this deep out in the middle of nowhere could be anything. It could be old Scourge magics or riches. Or maybe the Ebon Blade had a dirty little secret. Caution had his sickly green ear but curiosity was already winning that fight in his mind.

The goblin looked around at his workers. Most were not quite sure yet what they hit, others were terrified. An orc with a slacked jaw and fairly vacant expression caught his eye first. The peon would do fine.

"You, Whasyername, get in there and open it up."

The orc looked to Albinn a moment. He thought for a second before trying to respond. The goblin was having none of it.

"I said get down there and see whats in the box!"

The orc peon looked to the irate goblin and then to the hole. To him, a box was just a box. The goblin's insistence he go down to look at it closer was curious but he did as bid. Sliding down the steep cuts into the earth, the laborer began to look over the shape they had found. He was startled as the excavator's claw was pulled back and up, leaving a solid opening for him to peer inside. He was the first to hear the laughing. The sound of chains rattled as something moved but the frightened the orc. He had already begun to back up as they all witnessed the pale frostbitten hand reach out and latch on to the outside of the saronite box. Ice formed around the fingers like claws of a feral beast, then chipped away as it moved.

The speed with which the thing in the box moved was not natural. Bones seemed to contort as if their owner paid no heed to pain and shifted violently as it wrenched itself out of the box. In an instant, it was on its feet. Despite the damage caused by the excavator, it was standing firm on the box once confining it. The pallid frozen form rapidly coated itself in ice and surveyed its new prey. The laborers watched in horror as it leapt upon the orc in the pit. A few began to run while the rest could only watch. The frost bitten thing that vaguely resembled a human gripped its icy hands around the green skinned orc's throat and squeezed. The sharps shards dug in as it began to savor the terror.

All the while, it laughed. Not once did it stop.


Barnabus awoke. He was not sure how much time had passed. He could not remember either, the events that transpired after his bonds were broken. His wounds had been healed by his own hands it seemed. He could feel the dark powers of the fel runes etched in his own skin. He looked around for the first time. He was in the Desolace it seemed. Odd to him but he accepted it.

The quickly dissipating puddles of tainted water were the signs of his obvious failure to stop himself. Once more over the edge he had gone. It was curious though that there was no blood. He tried to remember, but he only recalled a sensation of waking. There was no blood. No bodies. Still, he knew better than to hope. The Harlequin was not kind. It would not have spared whoever had disturbed his resting place.


Albinn could feel the icy chains wrapping round his throat. The workers had begun their frenzied retreat as the laughing form dragged the sniveling, choking goblin to his sure demise. He begged and pleaded as best he could but upon seemingly deaf ears. The orc by now fading fast. The laughing sickly form had them both in his grasp and for that instant seemed intent on ending them both.

Then it stopped. The laughing died down. The grip remained, but lessened. The orc gasped for air and Albin began to feverishly struggle, hoping to break free in this moments respite. The orcish laborer looked upwards, blearily on his attacker. The expression had changed. The sadistic amusement now gone. He seemed now colder than even his iciest grasp. Stone faced, the thing released them. The shards of ice, falling from his body as unholy runes, etched into his very skin began to mend them tattered form before them. Albinn did not remain to witness the transformation, but the orc could not find the strength to flee. He stared in horror as the death knight reformed himself.

The moments passed by as the orc began to shift again. He sat unnerved by the still form that had attacked him moments ago. The silence, as unnerving as the laughing, haunted him. The peon shifted, ready to run himself as the death knight sank to his knees and began to whisper to himself. What was said, he wasn't sure if he heard properly, but the orc never would speak of it even if he had. In time, the pale man was alone.

James opened his eyes. His body his own for the first time since he had died those many years ago. His mind clear even if only for a moment. The Harlequin raged to be free, but where Barnabus was not strong enough to contain it, James was. A sad thought occurred to him though. The more he awoke, the more Barnabus would fade. The good natured side of his madness perhaps deserved to live, but its opposite could not be allowed to. James knew sleep would come again, but it would not last. It was time to heal.

For this moment, though, he was himself again.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

Sign in to follow this