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Fantasy - Modern Diaries. Draknor!

Started by Poison, Apr 29, 2020, 08:33 pm

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This is my first time writing something in 'public', so be gentle please! 


...


Prologue.


It should have been a normal day. 

Of course, normal in my world is probably not your normal.  Or, well, normal.

You see, ah, well, let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we? 

I woke up as usual.  Most people don't think my kind can sleep, but that's a load of crap.  I mean, it's just stereotyping right?  Anyhoo, I woke, made the bed, I'm a bit fastidious like that, and then did my, for want of a better world, toilet routine.

It was a Monday, that I know, so I chose what I like to think of as my 'good' suit.  It's a natty dark grey number with a long jacket, like the westerns.  I always feel like I should be wearing some kind of Stetson with it. 

So, dressed and ready, I had headed out for the office. 

I live in a fairly major city.  It's unusual in one respect thought, because there's an unusually high concentration of... 'us' living here.  I guess there's the old adage of safety in numbers right?  So, I'll not tell you the real name of the place.  Let's just call it... I don't know, Big City.  That should be generic enough.

I took the stairs down to the underground garage, one advantage in living in a slightly posher apartment block, and climbed into my hybrid.  I'm likely to be around longer than the usual person, so I like to try and take care of the planet.

Mind you, my friend, Mike, when I 'came out', was surprised I drove.

"Why not?" I asked him.

"Well, it's not what you would think," he said.

"There you go," I replied.

"What?"

"The stereotypes are starting already.  I knew I shouldn't have told you."

Anyway, I was cool really.  Everyone has a different way of reacting, although I've not come clean to many outside of the community.  Mike was pretty understanding really.

So I drove through he rush-hour traffic to my office.  Yes, I know, what?  Me working at an office?  What's that about?  Well, everyone has to eat, and my diet is no cheaper than anyone else's, probably more so actually.  We have to make our way in the world somehow, and anyway, I'm not exactly poor.  I probably do it for something to do as much as anything else.

Well, I parked the car in the overly-large company car park, and that's when things went a bit sidewards. 

I picked up my laptop bag, slung it over my shoulder, locked the car, turned around, and that's when someone shot me in the chest.

I know.  My best suit!

-

So, just the introduction.  I promise there's more to come, and there will be a suggestion phase next time! 

Any comments welcome until then!

 Popular topic  Link

Poison

Apr 29, 2020, 08:33 pm Last Edit: Jul 08, 2020, 07:54 pm by Poison



This is my first time writing something in 'public', so be gentle please! 


...


Prologue.


It should have been a normal day. 

Of course, normal in my world is probably not your normal.  Or, well, normal.

You see, ah, well, let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we? 

I woke up as usual.  Most people don't think my kind can sleep, but that's a load of crap.  I mean, it's just stereotyping right?  Anyhoo, I woke, made the bed, I'm a bit fastidious like that, and then did my, for want of a better world, toilet routine.

It was a Monday, that I know, so I chose what I like to think of as my 'good' suit.  It's a natty dark grey number with a long jacket, like the westerns.  I always feel like I should be wearing some kind of Stetson with it. 

So, dressed and ready, I had headed out for the office. 

I live in a fairly major city.  It's unusual in one respect thought, because there's an unusually high concentration of... 'us' living here.  I guess there's the old adage of safety in numbers right?  So, I'll not tell you the real name of the place.  Let's just call it... I don't know, Big City.  That should be generic enough.

I took the stairs down to the underground garage, one advantage in living in a slightly posher apartment block, and climbed into my hybrid.  I'm likely to be around longer than the usual person, so I like to try and take care of the planet.

Mind you, my friend, Mike, when I 'came out', was surprised I drove.

"Why not?" I asked him.

"Well, it's not what you would think," he said.

"There you go," I replied.

"What?"

"The stereotypes are starting already.  I knew I shouldn't have told you."

Anyway, I was cool really.  Everyone has a different way of reacting, although I've not come clean to many outside of the community.  Mike was pretty understanding really.

So I drove through he rush-hour traffic to my office.  Yes, I know, what?  Me working at an office?  What's that about?  Well, everyone has to eat, and my diet is no cheaper than anyone else's, probably more so actually.  We have to make our way in the world somehow, and anyway, I'm not exactly poor.  I probably do it for something to do as much as anything else.

Well, I parked the car in the overly-large company car park, and that's when things went a bit sidewards. 

I picked up my laptop bag, slung it over my shoulder, locked the car, turned around, and that's when someone shot me in the chest.

I know.  My best suit!

-

So, just the introduction.  I promise there's more to come, and there will be a suggestion phase next time! 

Any comments welcome until then!
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New writer.  Be gentle!

Ren

Nice one Pon!  Is there a suggestion phase here?  'Cos I say it's a basic robbery, or maybe mistaken identity.  Maybe some crime lord has it in for our hero.

Keep it coming!
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Poison

I didn't even think of putting a sp in just here, but thank you Ren, I shall take any and all ideas!

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New writer.  Be gentle!

Poison

I've not forgotten this, just going a bit more slowly than I thought. 
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New writer.  Be gentle!

Ren

No rush there Po.  I'm not exactly writing super fast these days.  :-\
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Poison

Well the suit was a total write off, even if I could get another jacket and waistcoat to match the trousers, which was unlikely. 

My assailant was standing there, the shotgun in his hands, a sawn-off one (isn't that illegal, well, then I suppose shooting someone in the chest isn't exactly legit either, so...), he had a look of bewilderment on his face, which is understandable, because I had a look of anger on mine, rather than the look of the recently deceased.

"This was my favourite suit!" I shouted at him, and grabbed the end of the shotgun, pushing it aside.  Hey, I'm not invulnerable you know.  He fired again anyway, and this shot hit my car.

"Bloody hell!  Look at that!" I cried.  That's when I lost my temper.  I'm fond of material things, yes so what, everyone has a weakness, I'm just man enough to tell the truth.

Grabbing him by his collar, I threw him clean over my car.  He screamed like a little girl.

Marching around, I caught up with him trying to scrabble away, one leg at a painful looking angle. 

Picking him up again with one hand, I gave him my best snarl, which can be pretty terrifying when I'm full on, and I guess it was quite bad, as he promptly lost bladder control.  Great, piss on my shoes, just the icing on the cake.

"What are you playing at?" I snarled.

"Th... the... they said..." he started, and then passed out.

Wonderful. 

I suddenly came to my senses.  Here I was, in a car park at rush hour with a crater blasted in my chest.  It was a good job I always parked in the most secluded corner of the car park, and away from the cameras.  No accident.  That's something that people like me do almost instinctively. 

Even so, there would be employees coming in to work, and I'd have a hard time explaining why I was walking about.  Thus I dropped my attacker, in the pool of his own urine, and opened my car door. 

Then I stopped, stepped back, and rooted through the guy's pockets, wishing I'd not dropped him in his own urine.  Still, a quick search recovered a wallet and a set of keys.  I pocketed the wallet for the information it may contain, and threw the keys into the bushes, out of spite.

Then I quickly climbed back into my car, started it, and drove back home as expediently as possible.

...

I made it back to my apartment, still seething.  Another advantage of an underground car park is less chance of meeting people coming and going.  Even so, I took the stairs.  No way I wanted to meet someone in the lift. 

Safely back home, I stripped off my clothes, emptied the pockets, and threw the ruined garments into a plastic bag, to be disposed of later.

Then I went into the bathroom and inspected the damage.

It wasn't the worst I'd had, but it wasn't great either.  I'd have fit in a ghost train ride for sure.  For this I'd need help. 

Cursing, I sent a quick email to work, making some rather lame excuse about being sick (as if!) but I'd log on when I felt a bit better.  Then I sent another text to another contact to say I'd be visiting, and put on some clean clothes.  More casual ones this time.  Black in colour, just in case there was any seepage from my chest.

Cleaned up again, I once more made my way down to my car, where I checked out the damage from the assailant.  It wasn't all that bad, cosmetic, along the lower part of the rear door.  It would need to be fixed soonest though, as it rather looked like someone had shot at me.  Which was the truth of course, but I didn't want to be explaining that.

I took the risk though, and drove out again, going away from the centre of town, and into the... seedier parts of Big City.  The wrong side of the tracks you could say, although frankly, sometimes I think I'm still more comfortable with the 'wrong' side of the tracks than the right side.

Eventually I turned into a narrow lane, and then again into a small parking space outside a dark green, dirty, unremarkable looking door.

Sliding out of my vehicle and making sure it was locked, I shuffled up to the door and knocked three times, slowly. 

There was about a minutes wait, and then a hatch slid open. 

"What?" a gruff voice asked, along with a cloud of cigar smoke. 

"It's me," I said.  "I need a fix-up."

"Okay," the voice said, and the door opened. 

I stepped into a dark room, which held a dark world. 

Things dangled from the ceiling from thin wires, disturbing pictures hung at crooked angles on the walls. 

More terrifying still, was my host...


Very well, I've run out of time for today boys and girls, so I'll put a suggestion point in here. 

What/who is our host?  What do they look like?  What are they?  Any and all ideas entertained!

And thank you for reading, all feedback welcome.
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New writer.  Be gentle!

Ren

Good stuff Poi!

Well, I'm thinking, from the gruff voice and cigar smoke, that it, obviously, has to be female.

My first thought was some kind of mage (though still unsure about what our hero is, so don't know if I'm on the right track here), but then I thought... how about a god?

An old god, a fallen and bitter god, or goddess I guess.  Maybe she was thrown out of her heaven, or has lost most of her followers or somesuch, but she's still a god, and still has power, which she uses for this sort of thing.

In exchange for services of course.   :o

Keep it coming, this one's right up my street.
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Poison

Thanks Ren!  Do I put up a vote now?  Or can I choose what comes next?
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New writer.  Be gentle!

Ren

You can do what you choose to do!  We're not all tight up squares here man!  We're cool and groovy.  Yeah baby.

Er,so, yes.  As you like. I do like to see a vote sometimes though!
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Poison

Very well then, a quick poll.  Not very exciting, but there you go!
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New writer.  Be gentle!

Ren

..and voted!

I think this is the first non-me story I've voted on on OP! Yay! :)
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Poison

Hurrah! 

Thanks Ren.  I shall attempt to write another part soon.  As soon as I process this new development haha.
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New writer.  Be gentle!

Poison

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New writer.  Be gentle!

Poison

You look like shit," she said, before taking a deep drag of an enormous cigar and blowing the smoke in my face.

I frowned and made futile attempts to waft it away.  Not that it could give my lung cancer or anything, let's face it, even if I could get lung cancer, I didn't need to breathe, so...

"Thank you," I replied, dryly, following her down a dark corridor. "Some random idiot shot me in the chest this morning.  I'm going to miss important meetings."

"You're a weird one," was all she said. 

Which is something coming from here.

Shemakabob, or Shem as most people called her, was a fallen goddess.  I know right?   Sounds seedy.   In fact it was practically normal.  Well, for a deity.   You see, gods, and goddesses are born through the power of belief and worship, which is where they get their energy from. 

The sad thing is though, most gods these days don't have enough worshippers.  There are the big few of course, the Christian god, Allah and so on, but the Old Gods are on a downward spiral.  Have been for decades. 

This raises other problems, because once you're a god, there's no undoing it.  You're still a god, but just... less.  It's the equivalent of being homeless I guess.  Anyway, these gods are still hanging about, getting their worship where they can, like a kind of celestial beggar.  They're still Beings of tremendous power, but most of them are, well, disillusioned would be one way of saying it. Twisted would be another, and possibly more accurate way.

"So then," Shem said, sitting on a stool in the middle of her workshop.  "What are we looking at?"

I took my shirt off and showed her.

"Nasty," she said, poking at the mess of tissue that used to be a well sculpted chest.  What?  I like to keep in shape.  Just because you're no longer alive doesn't mean that you're less vain. 

"This is going to cost," she said.  "Are you willing to pay the Price?"

I sighed.  This was what I was afraid of.  You remember I said that gods have to survive somehow?  Of course you do, it was about two paragraphs ago.  Anyway, this was how some of them did it.  By using their powers in return for favours.  And the desires of a god, or goddess in this case, meant you could never know what sort of weird shit you'd have to do.  Mysterious are the ways of the gods, and all that.

"Yes," I replied.  "I am willing to pay the Price."

"Excellent, because I have a doozy for you."  Shem smiled, which was horrifying on her, even though you could never remember what her scarred and craggy face actually looked like afterwards.   All part of the god thing.

She gestured, and I moved to stand in front of Her.

Closing her eyes, she held a hand out, holding it over my damaged tissue.  There was a, well, I don't really feel temperature any more, but I'd have to say heat.   A sense of Light, a sense of Dark, a sense of Other, filled the room, and I went a bit weak at the knees.  All this deity stuff is well above my pay grade, and, to be honest, freaks me the fuck out. 

Anyway, the heat in my chest increased, to a burning level.  I closed my eyes, not wanting to witness this, and gritted my teeth (a couple were even still my own, although most were... donations). 

Pain.  That was what it felt like, I'm sure.  After so many years I've almost forgotten how about physical feelings, but this could certainly be categorised under that heading.  I revelled in it.  Once you've been like me for as long as I have, it's a miracle to feel at all.

Without warning, it all faded, and I was left with the humdrum normality of, er, normality. 

"There," Shem said, taking another deep drag of her cigar.  "Good as new."

I looked down.  Sure enough, the massive wound had healed, replaced by tissue that looked almost alive.  Wow. 

"I thank you Goddess," I said, bowing slightly. 

"You can thank away, but that's not going to get you out of paying."

"Of course," I replied.  It's never wise to argue with the gods.  I had a friend once, a shapeshifter she was, who got into an argument in a bar with a demi-god.  Last I heard, she could hold a shape for about a day, before shifting into someone, or something, random.  That sort of thing doesn't make survival, or life, easy.  As if it wasn't hard enough anyway.

"What is it you required?" I asked, not without some trepidation.

Shemakabob smiled.


Woo!  Another, short, episode!  Obviously the idea phase here is, what is the Price?  I'm willing to entertain any and all ideas, 'cos I'm out!
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New writer.  Be gentle!

Ren

Nicely done there Poi! 

It's a tough Suggestion Phase for sure.  The first things that pops to mind is to lure away followers from another god(dess), maybe a rival of this one somehow.

It's a bit weak I know, but I'll keep pondering it!
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