Trinsic Tales:Afterlife in the Fast Lane/Chapter 03
Chapter Three: Dying to Win
<Capn_Ascii> "As we join our heroes, we find them...still being dead. Man, they haven't revived yet? What's taking them so long? I'm getting bored just standing here staring at their corpses. I mean, look at that one - what a way to go. Yeesh."
<Eralia> "Why do I get the sense someone's looming over our bodies... wherever we are?"
<Rika> "You're just paranoid."
<Eralia> "We'll see."
<Eralia> "For now, let's get our memories back."
<Rika> "Sounds good. Lead the way."
Eralia leaves the office and searches for this "Memory Bank"
Eralia heads into the "Memory Bank"
Dkort tags along
<Capn_Ascii> To da bank, to da bank, to da bank bank BANK...!
<Capn_Ascii> (Hmm, doesn't work quite the same.)
<Capn_Ascii> Eralia: You grab your teammates by their virtual leashes, and lead them to the Memory Bank down the street. It looks much like you would expect a bank to look - except that this one is easily as big as a small village. A pair of huge wooden doors, trimmed with gold, stand wide open, as throngs of people flood in and out of the opening.
- Eralia joins the inward flood
<Capn_Ascii> Eralia: "OOF!" "Hey, no shoving!" "Get out of my way!" "Argh, my squeedlyspootch!" The crowd of (dead) beings is so thick that, try as you might, you can't manage to push your way through - it's like trying to push your way through a giant marshmallow. After a few shoves, you end up being forced back out of the way.
Rika tries to push into the flood of people.
<Capn_Ascii> Rika: After watching Eralia rebound off the tide of people (well, humans and other creatures of all shapes and sizes, but we'll call them 'people' for the sake of convenience), you give it a go yourself. You manage to get much of yourself through the wall of bodies before a particularly stout dwarf bumps into your legs, causing you to lose your footing. You're almost immediately sweps back out of the crowd, landing on your rear.
<Capn_Ascii> DKort: You start to elbow your way into the crowd when a...ahem, robustly-built (i.e. fat) ogress tramples right in front of you. You end up bouncing off of her oversized gut as if it were a trampoline, and sprawl out next to Rika.
Eralia attempts to help Dkort make it through
Dkort flexes his muscles and attempts to heroically shove everyone out of his way
Rika attempts to help as well.
<Capn_Ascii> Dkort: You can feel your Klingon blood beginning to boil as the crowd continues to resist your attempts to enter - your fellow adventurers brace themselves as you snort, stomp your feet, and lunge forward. Eralia lends you a hand, and her assistance proves most useful - the crowd parts relatively easily as you pick her up and hold her horizontally like a battering ram, plowing your way through the crowd.
<Capn_Ascii> Rika grabs on to your back, dragged along as you force your way in through the doors. The crowd disperses shortly beyond them, allowing you to step to the side and catch your breath.
<Eralia> "That was... bad"
<Dkort> "No, it was fun!"
<Rika> "I almost fell off, right in tthe middle of those people."
<Dkort> "A little risk always makes things more exciting."
<Eralia> "Alright, now what?"
<Capn_Ascii> Did I say that the bank looked big on the outside? I take it back - it looks positively *tiny* compared to the gigantic interior. There are cubicles and work desks everywhere, and there are a number of teller desks in the far wall of the bank - and by "a number", I mean "an infinite number". You can see why the crowd broke up so quickly, despite its size - the sheer number of open windows means that each teller has less than 3-4 customers in line.
Eralia picks a random line and gets in it
Rika stands behind Eralia.
Dkort stands behind both of them
<Capn_Ascii> A pudgy, middle-aged man gets in line behind Dkort; he stands there fidgiting annoyingly.
<Capn_Ascii> Eralia: Lines, it seems, move quickly in Heaven; almost as soon as you step in line, you find yourself staring face to face with an Elf wearing a business suit and spectacles. "Greetings, and welcome to the First National Pnemonic Bank. How may I help you?"
<Eralia> "I seem to have forgotten quite a lot, and I was told you could help."
<Capn_Ascii> "Ah. Another deadbie, I take it?"
<Eralia> "Er... I guess. Whatever that means."
<Capn_Ascii> He raises an eyebrow, Spock-style. "It's short for "dead newbie". As in, new to the whole 'deceased' thing. I take it you're having trouble recalling your so-called life?"
<Eralia> "Oh, yes, very"
<Eralia> "Er, a lot"
<Capn_Ascii> "Well, that's what we're here for. Are your friends there in the same boat?"
<Capn_Ascii> "Well, we should be able to sort you out. Names, please?"
<Rika> "Rika Karimel."
<Capn_Ascii> "Eralia what?"
<Eralia> "Eralia t'Khellian," Eralia informed the Elf, glowering. Just HOW MUCH name does he need?
<Dkort> "Dkort Starkweather."
<Capn_Ascii> "Alright, let's see."
<Capn_Ascii> The elf opens a file drawer in his desk, and thumbs through it. After a moment, he pulls out a trio of file folders, which he begins to peruse. "Hmm...yes, I see. Interesting..."
<Capn_Ascii> "Hold on, hold on." He waves a hand at you, as if engrossed in a good book. After a few moments, he looks up. "My goodness, this *is* an interesting read."
<Eralia> "Yes, yes, I'm sure my life was completely fascinating."
<Capn_Ascii> "It looks like you three all died in the war, at the same time. By the same guy, in fact. It looks like blah blah blah..."
<Capn_Ascii> As the elf begins to ramble off the contents of the file, his descriptions begin to spark something inside each of you. As he recounts the events leading up to your untimely demise, you can suddenly remember everything - delivered via story-convenient flashback. That familiar harp chord plays, as the screen begins to go all wavy...
<Capn_Ascii> The year is 2005. Theorizing that one could time-travel within his own...oh, wait, wrong story. Hang on.
<Capn_Ascii> The year is...uh, this year. The lands of Lazryzort are in chaos - several months ago, a powerful warlord and his Orcish armies appeared from out of nowhere, and began ravaging towns and cities across the land. He has thousands upon thousands of veteran warrior orcs at his command, and rumor is that the warlord himself is undefeatable.
<Capn_Ascii> After cutting a swath of destruction thorough the land, he has finally come to the city of Trinsic. A massive battle now rages, as the city's defenders struggle desperately to hold off the impending destruction of their town.
<Capn_Ascii> The three of you have been hired as mercenaries to aid in the city's defense. Your task: to defeat the warlord, or failing that, to distract him away from his army long enough for the city's citizens to evacuate.
<Capn_Ascii> The three of you stand outside the wall of the city - or, rather, what's left of the wall, as much of it has already been blown open by explosive catapault charges or torn down by orcs with digging tools. A pile of orc corpses two stories tall bakes in the midday sun, testifying to your valiant defense of the breach (and smelling *horrible* in the process).
<Capn_Ascii> Standing before you is the Warlord himself - a huge, towering figure, easily twelve feet tall, and clad in heavy plate armor as black as dried blood. In one hand, he carries a six-foot-long sword, ablaze with eldritch flame; in the other, a vicious, razor-sharp battle axe, *shing!*ing with audible sharpness.
<Capn_Ascii> He stands atop the pile of dead orphans he just finished butchering and looks down at you, his red eyes burning with hatred, his purple cape billowing dramatically in the wind.
<Eralia> "Victory is life!" Eralia declares, firing an arrow at her enemy.
Rika runs up and tries to attack.
Dkort stands over ten feet tall with glowing white eyes and surrounded by a multi-colored aura. "You have no chance!"
<Eralia> After her first arrow is released, Eralia immediately nocks another one and aims.
Dkort charges shield first, surrounded by a plume of flames like a meteor
<Capn_Ascii> Eralia: Your arrow finds its mark, square in the warlord's chest! Unfortunately, said chest is covered with super-thick plate mail, so the arow just sort of bounces off harmlessly. He laughs...a deep, EVIL laugh. "HA HA HA! You cannot harm me, puny mortals! I am the harbringer of your doom! I am Death incarnate! I...AM..." He raises his sword triumphantly. "STEEEEEEEEVE!"
<Eralia> "Which Steve is that, exactly?" Eralia taunts. "The last Steves I killed were people with weird, robotic voices from the moon. The name doesn't inspire fear."
<Capn_Ascii> Dkort and Rika take advantage of his blustering to charge up to him; Rika stabs him in the back of the leg, as Dkort smashes his shield into the giant's relatively-less-protected kneecap. "ARGH!" He falls to one knee, growling. "Impudent FOOLS! I am Steve the Death-Bringer, destroyer of civilizations!" He takes a swing at Dkort with his giant flaming sword, which cuts a giant flaming swath through the air as it comes d
<Capn_Ascii> giant flaming head. No, wait, just his normal head.
<Capn_Ascii> ...which cuts a giant flaming swath through the air as it comes dangerously close to Dkort's giant flaming head. No, wait, just his normal head.
Eralia fires again!
<Capn_Ascii> Rika, meanwhile, continues to stab and slice at Steve's backside (his figurative backside, not his actual butt). Her strikes mostly bounce off of his enchanted armor, but after a few hits she starts to cut deep enough to draw blood...thick, purple, foul-smelling blood. EVIL blood. "GAH! That HURTS, dammit!"
<Capn_Ascii> His glancing at Rika is all the opening Eralia needs - she fires off another arrow, this one aimed at his head. Steve turns to face back at her just in time for the arrow to slip right through the opening in his helmet's visor. *splutch*
<Capn_Ascii> "AAAAARGH!" He claws at his face with one hand as more purple ichor dribbles from beneath the visor. "MY EYE! Yo SHOT OUT MY EYE!"
<Eralia> "And there's more where that came from!" Eralia declares, pulling out another arrow and firing!
Rika jumps to the other leg and attacks it as well.
Dkort takes a couple steps back and calls down a pillar of divine fire on Steve, making sure to position it so it won't hit his allies
<Capn_Ascii> "RAAAARGH!" Blinded (hah!) with rage, Steve snatches up his gigantic flaming sword and starts frantically slicing at the annoying little gnat that's scratching at his leg. Just as he's about to find his mark, however, Dkort's spell envelops the giant in scorching flames. "AAAH! It burns, IT BURNS!" Panicing, he starts flailing his sword around like a newspaper, trying desperately to swat the annoying little pests.
<Capn_Ascii> Fortunately, he misses Rika and Dkort by a mile. Unfortunately, the reason for this is that the wild motion and the blood on his sword-hand causes his blade to fly right out of his hands. It arcs through the air in slow motion, everyone's eyes following it, before spiralling gracefully downward and spearing point-first through Eralia's stomach.
<Eralia> Eralia growls, pulls out a handful of arrows, and starts firing them in rapid succession until she falls over and dies with a quote, "I'll be back."
<Capn_Ascii> Steve reaches up and covers his face with his free arm, as the arrows bounce harmlessly off of his armor. He tries to stand up, but a quick stab in the back of his knee by Rika causes him to stumble and fall back down again. "GRAH! I have had ENOUGH..." He raises his axe meneacingly. "...OF..." He takes a swing! "...YOU!" The axe head slices through the air...and through Rika, who is cleaved in half from shoulder to opposite hip.
<Dkort> "RRAAARGH!" Dkort articulates as he places both hands on his shield and puts all of his weight behind one last lunge
<Capn_Ascii> Steve, now back in his killing groove, takes a swing at the charging cleric with his Rika's-guts-covered axe. *krannng!* The blade bounces off of Dkort's shield, pushing the cleric back. "And I'm not so fond of *you*, either!" Using his free hand, the warlord begins chanting a powerful spell.
Dkort quickly lashes at Steve's hand with his shield. "Don't think I'll make this easy for you!"
<Capn_Ascii> The warlord grins evilly. "Easy? No." A huge, swirling vortex opens in the air directly above Dkort's head, the far end spearing through the infinite tapestry of time and space, seeking, searching...finding its target.
<Capn_Ascii> Dkort has just enough time to look up before a New York City transit bus comes falling out of the vortex like an ACME-brand anvil, smashing violently to the ground (and on top of the cleric). A few moments pass before the bus detonates in a spectacularly violent explosion worthy of Michael Bay.
<Capn_Ascii> "Satisfying? Yes."
<Dkort> "My...only regret in life...is dying!" Dkort says, exhaling his last breath
<Capn_Ascii> Dkort's hand - sticking out from under the bus - falls limp as he breathes his last. The warlord, still breathing heavily, slowly stands up, and begins lumbering towards the city...
<Capn_Ascii> ---END SESSION---