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Land of the Dead day / Jail day

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Today on the Land of the Dead/Jail day you have been thrown into jail. Your head is aching from the beating you were given by the guards and your memory is fuzzy.

As you slowly come to recognition you remember the facts of:

Who you killed
How you killed them
Why you killed them
How you managed to get caught

Write a short story/newspaper article on these events and what your sentence will be.

Points will be given for humour and tie-ins with the MagicDuel world (aka use real people, items, locations, etc).

1st, 2nd, 3rd will be given an Anni creature. First place will also receive a wind drachorn, second place will receive two gold coins.

Edit: There is no limit to how short the story can be, it can be a sentence if you think that will win you the prize!

 

This quest will be judged in a weeks time, Monday 4th May

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Stirred from haze i find myself in in the jail. But mind you not in a cell but in the damn hallway. Confused as to why and what happened i rattle random doors and shout for help but alas not long later find myself locked in one of the cells as the door auto latches behind me. It seems i might be able manhandle the door open but for that i need rest.

As i nod on and off laying on the smelly blank hung on the cell wall i start to remember glimpses.

It seems i had a rouse with one of my grand dukes minions. We had started a competition on who can walk the slowest from MDP to GOE with for the only valid excuse for not stepping ahead was being obv too busy with important stuff. At first it was easy, i had my subjects come and ask various important questions, i summoned meetings and tactical diversions plannings. Some citizens had come to ask for wedding permissions and so on. Sunfire seem at the same time to have endless supply of slaves who needed directing here and there.

On day three, as i was in our portable emergency management tent discussing the bad bread messing things up, sunny slipped up and fell idle. I had almost won.
This mishap drove sunny to start paying everyone he could to come and make complaints to him about what ever can be dreamt up. As i heard that in our crisis room from my spies I became angry. I ordered every subject to go kill or restrain every complainer they could. That ofc lead me with no subjects to work with for a while and i fell idle.......


As we where again neck to neck i again atleast had lots of work going on. Many vendettas to vendetta and some judges or likes wanted audience about something called "unthinkable murdering bastard". All looked good for me.


So as days progressed altho complaints had dried up for sunny it seemed i was lacking many subjects as well. I tought about ordering the remaining to go and punish the others but i was smarter than that!


Then at, i'm sure seconds from my inevitable victory, then million guards with Mur and Chew at head came rushing in. My subjects fought valiantly for 3 days and then i fought alone for 7 more. But alas i needed a beer and Chew managed to movebind me alittle. i think majority of the guards had fallen. They started to accuse me of mass murder, crimes against beer and other weird stuff. Some new meeting had been called Sunny was pulled to witness as where two other people who seemed quite unharmed considering the accusation. Somehow they had even found a dst to be a judge. All that started to be very boring. I kept telling that see, there is dst, sunny, those two other ones even mur. Surely everyone is alive......

Then dst announced something like "You Glorious King Of Golemus, Hard Metal and many other things are sentenced to jail for life." At that point i was so drunk that i lost my memory for good.

So this is how i seem to have gotten here, i ponder. Did sunny already reach GOE? Just in case i need to keep busy figuring out how to escape....





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The disastrous pub night

Day 124 of prison time. I have finally found the courage and clearness of mind to put my story on paper. It isn't one I'm particularly proud of, it is why it has taken me so long to write it, to face it even. I tried so hard to forget it but it is carved into my memory. 

It was a casual Sun-day, I was at the pub with Ledah, having a few beers. We were laughing and cheering and having a great time. All until Ledah received a message, he suddenly turned serious and asked me something. My answer did not please him and we got into a discussion. Voices were lift and it eventually escalated into violence. Until it as suddenly stopped as swiftly as it began. And Ledah laying on the floor, blood running along the side of his head, and me standing above him with a broken bottle in my hand. And the sad thing is I don’t even remember what we argued about. Knowing Ledah it must have been something silly. ...How did it get this far? 

The panic and regret filled my heart, but my head was filled with a dark cloud of treacherous reasoning. I dragged Ledah onto a carpet and rolled him into it. Then I wiped all the glass away and cleaned the spilled drinks, put the tables and chairs back in their places, when they weren't broken at least. Luckily pub fights are a commodity so there are no questions about a few tables or chairs less. 

I lifted the carpet onto my shoulder and carried Ledah with me to the drywater temple. There I held a short little private ceremony before I burned him on a pyre of broken chairs and tables, scattering his ashes in the 4 corners of the East. 

It didn’t take long before people started asking questions of his whereabouts. An excursion of the East foundations I uttered. And of course, as time passed by many search parties went there to find him. But not me, I sat down at the drywater temple, trying to face what had happened. 

I grew apathic and violent, pushing everyone way. My only friends I had left were the pubkeepers as long as they supplied and the nightshade dealers for as long as I had the coin. I was alone, drifting towards insanity, floating between high and hungover. Some tried to talk me back to the land of reason, saying it wasn’t my fault that Ledah got lost. He was the village idiot after all, it was no surprise he would lose his way even if he walked a straight line. But it only brought me further down. The flow of days and faces passing by seemed endless but so did this torturing guilt. 

Lady Ailith was one of those faces who stopped by at times, out of respect of what friendship we used to have I think. She lengthily tried to persuade me to give up this life and start living again. I got angry and lashed out at her. She was struck down to the ground, with a fine line of blood running from her temple. Flashbacks immediately appeared to that cursed night in the pub. My hands started shaking and I dropped to my knees crying. As Ailith got back onto her feet I confessed to her. 

The following weeks were a blur. Was there a trial, or not I can’t remember. Was I dragged to jail or did I put myself here, I am not sure. How long do I need to stay here? Probably not long enough but little do they know that I'm eternally caged in my mind. Day 124 and I'm through withdrawal, my head is clear again and I can think again. It is time to face my punishment. Here I sit and here I will stay. Out of respect of Ledah, and all those friends I have let down. It is time I become the man I used to be again. 

 

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     I woke up in jail to find that  I am covered in scratches and smell like death, but also of baked goods. Confused, I go to Ailith, the obvious first choice where baked goods are concerned. It is there that I learn that I started out the night happily baking with Ailith. She had decided to attempt to teach my neolithic self the science of baking. Apparently it had actually gone quite well, particularly as Ailith had done most of the work. My role was more of a "mash that", "hand me that", "could you please be a dear and move", "now watch how I soften the butter first" kind of deal. 

     After a somewhat fruitful afternoon, I had decided, according to Ailith, to stroll through MB. It is hard to distinguish recent memory with rote muscle memory of a repetitious task. It appears that while strolling through MB I chanced upon the giant statue that Slotsh was busy working on removing, hiding away, or... something. Honestly, I have no idea what he was doing, I just remember him jumping up and down excitedly banging on wood and iron. Strange. While I was walking by, the stupid little blighter on the back end of the statue bit me!

     This put me in a very foul mood, not to mention, on the way to MB I had been turned into mouse briefly as an illusion, which then meant that I was chased around by a bloody knight on a super giant horse! He kept trying to kill me! So I burrowed into a hole to gain a brief respite, when I was then mercilessly intruded upon by a bunch of fools blathering about buried treasure! Could I get no rest?Luckily, after I escaped the shovels and the horse the illusion came undone. I wearily drug myself out of my hole.

     I watched as the celebrants from the party I had hosted in Sage's Keep, stumbled past. I doubt they will remember anything of this night. I decided to take a stroll through Necrovion since it was still open. It turns out I was an idiot, it wasn't open any longer. I ran around NC running from lashtal, when I hid in the cemetary, pretending to already be dead. Apparently lashtal was satisfied with this or was actually fooled by my deception.

     I brushed myself off and made it out of NC by using all of my heat orbs. I went to Sage's keep to rest up. There I encountered Advisor, lurking in the shadows, going on and on, mumbling about silence and staying away. I told him a story to get his mind off of things. Turns out, he really didn't enjoy being the plot point of my story. He said "You always do this! Now people think I'm crazy or something. I'm FINE, F-I-N-E, fine! So leave me alone!" I proceeded to attempt to placate him. Apparently, this set him off even more and he lashed out at me with the mattock that he still had from Gateway Island somehow. Horrified that MaGoHi had been giving possible murder implements to individuals without at least checking their background first, I attempted to defend myself while running away. 

     We were outside Sage's Keep when I realized that Advisor would not leave me alone, so I desperately came up with a frantic plan as I saw Slotsh doing what ever it is he was doing. I ran as fast as I as close as I could past the head of the statue with Advisor hot on my heels. The head lashed out and got Advisor! It maimed him, advisor tried to run away, but I just stood and watched, oh well, guess he gets to be another plot point. 

As Slotsh watched horrified, I offered to help Slotsh move the statue, I dug a giant hole in front of the statue, and borrowed Slotsh's stash of mechanical junk and made a bunch of engines that then pushed the statue, with advisor in front of it, into the giant hole. Then  I helped Slotsh bury the statue and the remains so my King, the most esteemed and gracious ruler that he is, would be so busy with the anniversary quests as well as coding that he  wouldn't find out.

I would have gotten away with it too, had it not been for Slotsh telling Ungod all about the story! While I was idling in Marble Dale Park the guards jumped me! I couldn't even put up a fight.  

It seems I have been sentenced to 6 months in prison. Apparently murdering a new player and using quests to hide the evidence, as well as making an accomplice of the village idiot are all crimes that are frowned upon here.

Edited by Steno
Ungod telling me to read Slotsh's name correctly

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Part 1: The cell

I collapse on the cold hard floor, my armors stripped and weapon taken, dressed in rags - if I can even called these garbage-esque pieces of fabrics barely holding any integrity - and to my body - rags. Through the corners of my swollen eyes, I barely catch a glimpse of the guard, crouching down and readying another swift, hard kick to my guts. His armor - no, my armor, stolen somewhere between the interrogations - glimmers amidst the pale moonlight. A chill-inducing screeching sound followed by a large thud, and the clacking of metals, signals the beginning of my imprisonment. Then, everything fade away to darkness

 

Warm sunlight, peaking through the narrow slits between the metal rods, moves slowly through my body. The beam of warmth slowly moves across my body, finally reaching its peak somewhere below my hips. Warmth, something so scarce and luxurious in this cold, bloody cell. The warm abruptly ended as I'm showered with a bucket of cold, almost as if melted ice, water. The cold shakes me awake, although just barely, enough to sit up and stare at its source: a tall, lumbering guard standing next to the open cell. Seeing as such, he announce his purpose, in a cold, monotone voice:

 - Meal time.

A slim, deft female enters the cell, holding a small tray. She's equipped with light, sturdy leather armor, unlike the behemoth slap of steel worn by the man in front of me. Inside the tray, lies two slices of bread, a small, cracked bowl of cold, watery soup, and a leather flask of water. She quickly lays the tray down to the floor, her eyes glares towards me with caution, before retreating back out. The male guard then raises his weapon - a long, wooden halberd, headed by a sharp, heavy blade, decorated by a clumsy looking skull sculpture - then slams it on the ground, creating a large, sudden sound, to draw my attention.

 - Eat up, but do not sleep. We shall resume shortly.

Pulling from a pouch beside his body, the guard pulls out three vials. The first shines a cloudy, luminescent, yellow fluid. The second, harrowing darkness. The final, a clear, light purple fluid, its content jumps around from the slightest movement, as if it's trying to escape the vial itself. He unscrews the first, yellow vial, before dumping it on my head. A burning heat rises from within, as my wound rapidly closes itself, and blood drains from my swollen eye, restoring some vision.

 - Extracted essence of vitality. Healing potion, as you called it. The cheap kind, obviously. We need to keep you alive and conscious, can't let you drift away like last night now can we?

Next, comes the black liquid. It struggles, clinging closely to the container, and it takes several shakes before the final drops find its way towards me.

 - Your usual dose of creaturefreeze and nostat mix. Enjoy.

Finally, he perches down, an unusual grin appears on his face.

 - This one - he tauntingly shakes the final vial in front of my eye - is something special. Reserved for scums like you.

In one swift motion, he unscrews the vial, then shove it directly up my nose. The eldritch liquid escapes the vial with a sudden force, entering my nostril, and absorb into my mind. On contrary to the violent escape, it's as if the fluid merely pass through my body, and for a second, it did have some relaxing effect. A calm peace before the storm. Then, it kicks in, a sense of dread and despair fills every sense of my body.

 - Concentrated essence of despair. A new concoction, rare and expensive. But don't worry, there will be plenty more for our session. Consider this a sample, something to encourage you to spill the bean sooner than later.

By the time you finally get used to the sensation and stopped shaking, the guard had already left, and an eerie silent fills the cell. I clutch the bread, greedily fills my stomach, before almost pouring the cold soup through my throat. The food tasteless, without any flavor, not even salt. Somehow, it still feels like a luxury, given the circumstances - and not something I'd guess to see often. I take a swig of water from the pouch, saving the remaining. Unlike food, fluid is even more important, and I'd least want to struggle with thirst. Hunger, at the very least, is sustainable. My mind drifts away as I dread the upcoming session...

Edited by Demonic God
words

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Aia felt the Phurba's engraved grip in her hands before she fell forward and plunged the sharp end into the startled Aelis's chest; his dying body releasing its grasp on a half full flask, shattering it on the floor; Aelis's exsanguinating form cushioned much of her fall.

"Murder! Aia murdered Aelis!" screamed the Town Crier; echoes of his voice filled every corner of the realm.

Aia released the Phurba and slumped to the ground, the shattered glass cutting into her skin; the flask's contents quickly evaporating from the ground.

------

"Chewett, no!"

Surrounded by very strong NPCs, Aia's voice faltered. Their arms grasped her own, and she ceased her struggles.

"I am sorry, friend, but I am sworn to protect the citizens of the East." Chewett executed his code, and Aia found herself devoid of the A25 Tools.

"Place her in the solitary cell; I am sure some softening up will bring us some answers."

------

Aia woke up on the cold, hard floor of the solitary confinement cell. Making a painful, nondescript sound, she slowly sat herself up, pressing her hands against the moist grime of the cell's unmaintained floor. The warm sensation of blood ran down her nose and onto her dress; she spluttered and retched onto the floor beside; immediately regretting this as an intense ache throbbed through her temples; feeling faint, she lay back down on the hard floor. A brief attempt to recall recent events quickly turned into an exhausted return to the land of dreams.

------

"She is very dangerous," declared the Grand Duke. "I have seen what power can do, and it seems she is no different; I will have to face her myself. For now, if you see her, you are not to approach; notify me at once." 

Chewett began to weave some code. Although it was very makeshift, he knew Aia's Mur-given powers would be no match for this, or for the NPCs at Chewett's beck and call.

------

Aia awoke to the rays of sunlight blaring through the bars of the cell. Her eyes snapped open to the sight of a small wooden chest underneath the prison seat. Reaching slowly for it, she felt the painful weight of a very heavy, spiked boot crushing her hand; she screamed in agony. A hand reached down to the wooden chest and opened it before her eyes; Aia closed her eyes again as searing light from the chest emanated through the room; she felt the weight of the boot ease. 

She opened her eyes again, but she saw nothing but the bright yellow-green of afterimages burned into her retinas. She blinked, and blinked again; the darkness of the room slowly returned.

Clutching at her wrist with her other hand, she sat up and turned to face the slightly ajar cell door and a pile of ex-prison-guard's clothing. She could just barely make out the scratchings on the wall - "I am Mur..." "I am Marind..."

Aia carefully pulled the door open; the resonant creak echoing loudly down the corridor.

------

A dense white haze obscured the doors of the East Laboratory, and a laboratory coat-clad Aelis emerged from a barely visible wooden door. Waving the fumes away with one hand, Aelis sat down in the courtyard, tightly holding the conical flask in the other hand. Aelis pulled out a small, well worn notepad from his coat-pocket, and flipped to the final page, tearing out a sheet of paper; rapidly scribbling just a few words - "Need clicky, please attend".

He folded it in half, wrote "Aia" on it, and passed it to his delivery-winderwild. He flipped back several pages, and began to write again, this time more carefully, "Luck as a resource..."

------

Aia felt the remnants of the clear distilled fluid absorb into the cuts on her skin.

Aia looked back toward the contraption. Should it fall into the wrong hands, her misfortune could become widespread; Aia hastily enchanted a small chest-clicky and placed the button on the inside of the box, just behind the latch, before putting the remaining parts of the contraption within. Sealing the box with a trap-enchantment, she placed it into her inventory. Magic would do where science would fail; but Aelis was always good at blurring the line between the two.

------

Aia flittered into the Eastern Laboratory to the sight of a very excited Aelis, who waved her into the now very clear reception. "Look at this!"

Aelis opened his notepad to a very ornately drawn diagram. "Luck as a resource - by Aelis" read the title, and an intricate maze of shapes, arrows and text followed below, around, and even above. Aia peered at the notepad blankly. It was little wonder that Mur had given Aelis a position in the coveted Soldiers of the Inner Sun. 

"Aelis, I am indeed joyous for thy discovery, but mine intellect cannot comprehend of thy discovery."

"Perhaps it would be better if I showed you?" Aia nodded once, and followed Aelis deeper into the Laboratory, each footstep squeaking, on the floor glistening with the shine of having recently been mopped.

"Now, this is a very controlled environment, and you have to trust me on this; I will extract your luck, but I will give you something dear in return so that you will have your luck back." Aelis reached into his inventory and carefully passed the Phurba to Aia.

"Now, just stand here..." Aelis pointed to an X on the ground. "You might feel a bit unpleasant, but that won't last long." 

Aelis wheeled what could only be described as a clunky sounding box into the room. On one side was a small tap; on the other, a large funnel; reminiscent of a gramophone's horn from the other-realm. 

Aelis pointed the funnel at Aia and placed a small flask under the tap.

"Okay, now, just stand very still." Aelis pressed a very inconspicuous looking red button on the side of the box, and stepped quickly out of the room.

Aia stared at the contraption as the humming sound slowly became a humming and dripping sound and then a pouring sound, and then back to a humming sound again. 

Aelis walked back in and lightly tapped the button again, and the hum ceased.

"Stay there - do not move."

Aelis procured a silver coin, emblazoned with a picture of Mur on it, and walked to stand in front of Aia.

"Aia, heads or tails?"

Aia raised her eyebrow. 

"Heads, I suppose."

Aelis flipped the coin with a practiced thumb motion, then caught it, turning it over on the back of his hand.

"Tails. Okay, again!"

"Tails, then."

"Heads. Okay, again!"

"Tails again."

"Heads. See?"

Aelis procured a handful of silver coins - counting them - six, seven, eight, nine - and pulled up a table, placing a felt sheet upon it.

"Okay, heads or tails?"

"Heads, then."

Aia stared in disbelief as nine silver coins landed tails-up on the table.

"I think thine discovery were quite evident, Aelis; but I should like my luck back now."

Aia produced the Phurba from her inventory in anticipation of Aelis, who was already retrieving the now half-full flask from the other side of the contraption. 

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I’m on travel without my laptop until the end of anniversary. So I put this tiny one here:

 

By slapping a mosquito on Chewett’ s face to show my intimacy with him, I was put in jail and sentenced to slap my neck 10000 times hardly until it irreversibly becomes redneck. 

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It was jailed so cyberers would not get the much needed privacy for cybering in jail. So I can say that I was jailed in order to...kill the mood. MD-iority Report. :D

 

 

Reference: Permalink

 

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Part 2: The victim?

Thud... thud... thud...

The unmistakable heavy footsteps of the guards approaches my cell room. Each step reminds me of the dreadful potion, and albeit I care little of him, the memory inevitably cause me to shudder at each sound. The cell door opens, and enters the same two guard - this time, the lady carried a heavy pair of shackles. I remember not how it was slipped on me, but clear as day, of the cold, heavy feel of it. When your mind is in a daze, it remembers not most event and sensation, least for those that left a sharp disturbance, like a drop of water on a still lake.

The entire walk to the torture room is quiet. Eerily quiet. Or at least, whatever sound was there, faded into the background of my mind, simply ignored and forgotten.

I, however, remember being sat down to the cold, solid stone chair. My shackles removed, only for my limbs to be tied to a more stationary ones, which where everywhere, next to the numerous devices in this room. A distinct laughter was heard.

 - Welcome to my torture room - chuckled the Bacon knight.

He seems amused with my puzzled expression

 - Didn't expect to see me here eh? Most don't. They think I don't seem like that type of person. Think that someone like Lashtal would be doing these kind of deeds. But this role, no, it isn't suited for those with a license to kill. Torture isn't meant for killing, now isn't it. Torture... is for information. To keep something alive, even when it shouldn't, and not only alive, but conscious - and talking!

MaGoHi turns around, still lost in his monologue

 - To do this job, no, to excel at it, takes more than just skill.

He turns around abruptly

 - It takes PASSION!. Passion, and desire. To innovate, to improve, one needs to not only stomach such role, but to bask in ecstasy while he... indulge in such art.

 - Why did you think I was called the Bacon Knight? True, I do love a good bacon. But that simply won't do. Nothing feels like eating a well seasoned, smoked, sliced piece of bacon, while listening to the squeal of it's original owner. To be able enjoy as such, it is art!

His face suddenly turns cold

 - But even such art... feel wasted on you. But I must, I shall, to the best of my ability, avenge Sunny. My sunshine, Sunny. How dare you kill him. How dare you, you naughty little piglet.

He grabs the nearest blade, a long, razor sharp surgical knife, and swings at my face. I can feel the wind sweeping past from his motion, yet strangely, feels nothing but the wind. That is, until a burning sensation across my entire left cheek reveals what he had done - bastard had sliced my face off, but only ever so little. Yet, the pain remains unbearable.

 - Nice isn't it? Pain, comes from nerve cells. A deep cut, below such nerve layer, has little value. A precise, thin cut, however...

He pops open a jar. A strong, acidic smell fills the air

 - Is much better, don't you think?

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I wrote... and wrote... and hope I didn't screwed this over by writing through the night. But finally :D

Part 3: Blood, secrets, and vengeance

MaGoHi stayed true to his words. He inflicted agony which I didn’t know to have existed in this world. Such was his mastery, that each moment lasted an eternity, and each sensation can be felt all across my body.

The faint sound of the generator fills the empty background noise of the torture lab. An eldritch concoction devised by the unholy sect, it selectively releases pulses that refresh one’s own senses. True to their twisted nature, it amplifies one’s sense of pain and pleasure alike. Or it should have, had MaG not injected me with a specific suppressant that cancels everything positive.

From a nearby lab table, MaGoHi sits idly, staring at a twirling smoke running through a lab tube, condensing into what seemingly a liquid, from the dripping sound it makes. He ganders at his own notes, and launch into another round of interrogation:

- This would’ve been much easier if you weren’t so tight-lipped, you know. Not that I didn’t enjoy it. I always enjoy breaking those who have a strong reason to stay quiet. I find it, puzzling, how one would be so firm in their belief, that they would choose to endure such suffering. But eventually, they all crack. None die in my watch, and none shall leave until I have my answer. Eternity blinks - MaG snaps his finger - within a moment. This chamber, crafted by masters of the Principle of Time, under the consultant of ClockMaster himself, can alter one’s perception of time itself. Oh, how hard it was for me to convince Chew to let me use this as my laboratory, but he has never been disappointed. I’ve never failed to get him the answer he wanted.

MaG approaches me, stacks of paper on his hand. Papers enchanted with the principle of imagination, and a bit of mind magic. It detects the faintest ideas in one’s mind, recording vivid images upon its coarse, yellow surface. He had done this many, many times, along with his relentless question, each time backing out after he had filled out the pages. Then, he would examine them, while running regenerative magic, and occasionally, shove a feeding tube down my throat. He would then read, take notes, and repeat. This time, unlike many others, he had a wide smirk on his face.

- Bit by bit, crack by crack. Your mind betrayed you, DG. Your lips may not move, but your mind does. As pain takes over, your defense weakens, and your mind, captured. I’m afraid our time together is over. But, just to make sure - he wades the new stack of paper in front of me - let’s make sure, shall we?

- You, on the night of April 26, murdered Sunfire. You were lurking in the East - he waves a rough sketch in front of me, of some mossy, stone walls - at the drywater temple.

A sudden pulse of electricity pulses as my eyes glances over the sketch. MaG cracks open a smile as he flips over the newest mind paper - a clear picture of the temple is imprinted upon its surface

- Bingo - laughed MaG.

- Now, you had with you, a Skullcrusher - he flips over another picture. You smashed his head - MaG’s eyes lit up with anger - then dragged his body, moving it behind Knator’s vacation home. You buried him here - MaG shows another picture, this time, of a great tree - before cleaning up the blood stain and evidence.

- The guards however, heard a ruckus, and found his body, and caught you when you returned to the scene to dispose of it. I’ve already sent my men out, and your weapon was found in the nearby stream.

- And your reason… care explaining this? - he flipped over an image, that of the Golemus crown.

Part 4: Scheming in darkness

Fear. True fear was not something that I had felt since I was captured. How long has it been? It felt like eternity, yet, when measured by other factors, those less surreal than the mind itself, it couldn’t have been more than a few days. I was cracked, in mere days. Too soon - I think to myself.

Another pulse runs through my body as MaG sees my expression, his eyes filled with delight. Time felt almost as a blur, as adrenaline filled my vein, the first time in many, many days. His hands move over to the paper, the same gesture he had performed again and again. Time slowed to a near halt - at least in my mind - as I mustered the rest of my energy, and call upon the power of an unused wishpoint.

A simple request - death itself. Moments later, dragged by the pull of mysterious forces of the dead, I find myself standing- if you could call it as such - at Berserker’s way. Hidden under a nearby stone, one simple gold coin, and a one-time resurrection device. A second wishpoint used, activating my true invisibility spelldoc. The gazebo, then bob, then the gates of Necrovion disappear behind me, as I rush towards the Bridge of Ages. My vitality recovers as I walk upon my homeland.

Time. Time was my goal. And now, I can only hope that was enough. I find myself collapsed inside the Tempest Fort, it’s aged walls resting upon my back. An assuring voice fills my ear, as my lips widen to a smile:

 - Ave.


 

Edited by Demonic God

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