+- Omni Archive (https://omni.zulenka.com)
+-- Forum: The Omniverse (https://omni.zulenka.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=4)
+--- Forum: The Nexus (https://omni.zulenka.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=9)
+--- Thread: Chosen by God: I Always Knew I Was Awesome (/showthread.php?tid=4460)
Chosen by God: I Always Knew I Was Awesome - Ahana Varma - 04-02-2018
I stand on the bed, a savage grin plastered to my face. Before me is this the owner of this manse; a fat, blubbery man, middle aged and moustachioed, with a bulbous nose, short, curly brown hair, and eyes of a colour to match. His olive-toned skin is lighter than mine, though not quite as pale as the far-southerners; those 'white' folk who inhabit the frigid tundras far from the equator. Beside him is his wife; a much younger, more attractive specimen than her husband. She has the same skin, hair and eye tones – not that that’s surprising in any way; being of a proud, old, noble family, their ancestors surely must have lived in this region since ages long forgotten, so it's to be expected that they should have the generic, stereotypical traits associated with the peoples of this area – though her own wavy locks tumble down to the small of her back, much longer than her man’s. She’s slim, with a nice figure… one that I can appreciate all too easily right now.
They were asleep when I found them, before I jumped up onto this luxurious, four-poster bed and yelled my greetings at the top of my lungs. The pair had been sleeping naked beneath their sheets, which have fallen down to about their hips now that they've gotten up and shuffled back against their headboard, clutching at each other in their wide-eyed terror... this scene would be much hotter if I could just mentally blot out that corpulent glob of overflowing flesh from the picture.
But eh, it’s no big deal. It isn't like I came here looking for sexual gratification anyway. I lift my javelin, which I’ve been leaning casually on one shoulder as I stand here... as I stand over them, looking down on the pitiful wretches. Yeah, the eye candy is a nice bonus, but honestly, I'm a little busy right now. We have a city to sack, after all. I can get sex some other time; opportunities to commit mass murder are much less frequent.
“Scream for me, will you?” I ask, grasping my golden armament’s shaft with both hands and driving one of its pointed tips towards the bulbous gut of the oiled and pampered lord.
They kindly oblige.
When it impales him, the pitch of his shriek changes. No longer a cry of fright, but one of agony instead. Honestly, for all that I’d love to wax poetic and say it sounds so beautiful and musical and whatnot, the truth is that in and of themselves, screams are kind of a shitty thing to listen to. It isn't about the noise, it’s the feeling, the rush of inflicting harm upon someone else and knowing that there's absolutely nothing they can possibly do to stop me. It is glorious. Trampling all over the weak and pitiful is a different sort of pleasure from taking down a mighty foe, from seeing someone great and powerful crumble and fall before me… but it’s still just as much fun, if less of an achievement.
Releasing the javelin, I hold my hands out to either side. Slender pillars of gilded flame spring into existence just in front of my palms, and as I clench my fists around them, the fires vanish, revealing two more of my thin spears. I raise them high above my head, laugh, and bring them down with all my strength into his torso. He writhes and flops like a fish out of water, but I hold him steady, leaning forward, putting all my weight down on him.
I stare into his bulging eyes as he gags and coughs up blood. Such a lovely sight. Sadly, I don’t get to keep watch as the last dregs of life escape him, as his eyes glaze over and he shuffles off this mortal coil... I'm distracted by his wife. Finally coming to her senses, she scrambles out of their bed, thuds heavily onto the richly carpeted floor, then, with barely a pause, begins scrambling for the door. It’s a big room, though. She'll need a few seconds to reach it, so I allow myself to take a moment to just enjoy watching her, as I hold out a hand and call up another of the Endless Spines.
She really is a pretty thing. What a body. Mmm-hmm. Honestly, it’s practically criminal that this snivelling lump got her all to himself. He must've been a real big shot around here, for her family to have let him take such a prize. I wait until she’s almost reached the doorway before I make my leap, crossing the distance in a single bound, landing on my feet first, then bringing down my right arm.
The javelin sinks into her lower back, just to the left of her spine. She screams and spasms, going wild with pain, desperate to be free. I laugh and grab the shaft with my left hand as well, pushing down, aiming to wedge the point into the floor, to keep her pinned in place. I hold on until her struggles start to wane, then set one bare foot on her back and tug free the slim spear.
She screams sharply and thrashes jerkily, once, then feebly tries to slither away. I put a little more weight on her, and in this weakened state there’s nothing she can do about it; even without the javelin, I have her pinned. Realising the futility of her attempts, she begins sobbing loudly, allowing her head to drop down to the floor, knowing she's beaten. Her tears soak into the thick, fluffy, scarlet carpet’s fabric up by her head, whilst the area around her gut is stained a darker shade of red by the now freely flowing blood.
I take my time before striking again. Using my foot alone, I brush aside her silky soft curls, clearing them from her right shoulder. Such smooth, unblemished skin. I raise the Spine, preparing for another blow… wanting to make this woman's torment last a little longer than her man's. But then… the door swings open a little way. Both of us look up.
“Oh.” I croon gently, pleasantly surprised to see the small figure in the doorway. My grin broadens.
“No.” she moans, at almost the exact same moment I speak. A child stands there, probably somewhere in the region of six or seven years old. I am surprised, I must admit. This woman would have to have been pretty young when she gave birth to have a kid at that kind of age.
“Mama, what’s going on?” the boy asks, his voice wavering. I can tell he’s practically petrified, now that he’s had a moment to appreciate the situation. He’s small, chubby, with a haircut to match his father’s, but there’s a hint of more delicate features in his visage. His mother’s legacy, no doubt. He wears a white nightgown and clutches some sort of bright yellow stuffed animal in his arms.
“Run! Run! Get away, baby!” the dying woman screams, seeming to find some heretofore unknown reserve of strength. She actually manages to push herself up a little, almost to the point of being able to get onto her hands and knees, before I stamp on her back and slam her down onto the floor once more.
He trembles, tears in his eyes, but shakes his head. Not really understanding what’s going on, but not wanting to leave his mummy all on her own. Aw, how adorable. I stab her.
The javelin is raised high, held in both hands, before being brought down heavily. It digs deep into her flesh, but doesn’t go all the way through, not this time. It strikes a bone and I can get it no further. She shrieks in agony, jerking again. I twist the javelin, trying to get it past, putting all my weight on it. She’s writhing and screeching, and her little boy has dropped to the floor and begun wailing as well.
I might be worried about the noise they’re making, if… well… if I had any reason to fear anyone in this city… okay, okay, anyone not on my side, in this city. I'm a pretty damn good mage, if I do say so myself, but I can’t match a few of the others we have. Being all but indestructible by conventional methods, as much fun as it is, wouldn't do me a whole lot of good against magi who could just pin me in place and hold me down until I died of hunger or thirst…
Still, barring anyone like that, I might as well be unkillable, so I'm good. Even if there are a few house guards squirrelled away somewhere in the manse; even if they could get here without running into any of the others downstairs, who’re making themselves busy wrecking the place and doing all sorts of uncouth things to the family's servants and slaves; and even if these guards were the sort who actually practised combat magic… there’s no way I’d ever be given cause to worry by someone weak enough to be employed by a mere lord.
Had our fearless leader, the so-called 'Puppetmaster of Fallen Souls', not insisted on single-handedly taking down this city-state’s palace, I might have gotten a decent fight; some members of their royal guard must surely be pretty skilled, after all. As it is, I'm just hoping this place doesn't run out of citizens before I've had my fill of bloodshed.
“Hurts, does it?” I ask in a chipper tone, giving up on piercing her shoulder and yanking free my weapon. After one last scream she quietens, though her body is still racked by powerful sobs. And that brat won’t shut up, either.
I give her a light kick, turning her over, so I can see her front. She gasps sharply, her back arching with pain. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her face tear-streaked and much paler than before… aside from that, though – well, that and the inch-wide hole in her stomach, from which her lifeblood still rapidly pumps – she still looks damn fine. Her breaths are ragged and laboured now, though in between them she does manage to speak softly, pleading with a child who can’t hear her above the sound of his own shrill shrieks, begging him to flee, before it’s too late for him as well.
I hold up the sanguine-slicked point of my spear before my eyes. Blunted. Gold isn’t exactly the most durable of metals, so I can’t say I’m surprised that smashing and grinding it against bone messed it up a bit. I change my grip on the shaft; the other end is also sharp, so this one still has some use left in it yet.
I press this point against her chest, just atop her heart, more or less; over her sternum, in any case. It pricks her skin, though she doesn’t appear to notice. She’s twisted her head back and is staring at her little boy as she makes her weak and feeble pleas to him. She knows better than to ask me for mercy, at least, it would seem. It’s surprising how many people don’t. I wonder briefly if that ever actually works. Are there really any assassins or soldiers out there who'd just stand down and let their foe live merely because that person asked them nicely?
I suppose it doesn't matter. I do hesitate for a moment, though not as a result of any silly notion of mercy. No, I'm just not sure which would be worse: to regret not taking my time here, or to regret missing out on many other murders because I was preoccupied with stretching this one out. Oh, such tough choices. I can't exactly hang around pondering the matter for too long either... coming to a decision, I raise the javelin, then slam it down. There’s a crack, and she screams again. She isn't quite dead yet, though. Her breastbone is fractured, but not broken… so I keep on at it. The Spine rises and falls, breaking skin and bone, again and again and again, as she thrashes and flops weakly on the ground, her blood spattering everywhere.
Ah, such ecstacy.
Eventually, her chest a crimson mess of torn flesh and puckered holes, she stops moving completely. I'm breathing a little heavily myself by this point, my skin is covered by a fine sheen of sweat, and my right arm is a bit sore, to be honest. As much as I love my gold-summoning magic, these spears are fucking heavy.
Tossing this one aside, I step past the corpse of his mother, musing over whether or not to kill the bawling baby when the stench hits my noise. Blegh. The kid’s nightgown is stained yellow. The wimpy little fucker just pissed himself. Well, that settles it. As tempting as it may be to leave the occasional child alone, hoping they grow up all bitter and vengeful then come back to provide more entertainment in future, it seems pretty unlikely to me that this one will survive long enough to get around to that… and if someone’s gonna get to enjoy killing him, it might as well be me.
“Don’t worry about your momma, kiddy,” taking another couple steps forward, I raise my left hand this time, and a line of golden flame streaks past my palm, before vanishing just as I'm closing my fingers around the shaft. Once again, I hold aloft a javelin, “you’ll be together again in no time.”
And then, just before I can plunge my spear into the pungent little rat, he vanishes. In fact, everything vanishes. The fancy, snobby paintings that line the walls; the ornate, platinum candelabra with their LED (luminescence-enchanted diamond) lights; the marble ceiling and walls themselves; and even the floor beneath me. Suddenly, I’m standing on thin air… I think. There’s no breeze, though, so it’s hard to tell. I certainly can't feel anything beneath my feet, at least.
A grinning, glowing, eyeless figure sits before me. Apparently nothing more than a silhouette with teeth, really. Everything else is just darkness. Is this a booby trap? Have I somehow triggered some sort of enchantment intended to safeguard the house? Is this just a dream-place, or have I really been tossed into some other plane of existence? Is this thing a djinn? A demon? Or something else entirely?
Quote:“My name is Omni. This is not the world you know. This is the Omniverse. You interest me, so I have made you part of it.”
Huh. Well, it- or he, I suppose, isn't telling me what he may be, it would seem, but who will have to do, I guess. As for the idea of being snatched away arbitrarily by an extraplanar being to become some sort of plaything for their amusement… stranger things have happened, I must admit. There are at least a few religions across the continent which claim that their prophets, saints and/or messiahs have met such entities, so why not, right?
No, it doesn't strike me as being at all arrogant to compare myself to a messiah.
Quote:“The Omniverse is a place that reflects the wishes of those who are part of it. But! There are rules. I will explain them only once, so listen carefully.”
Wishes, huh? Interesting… rules, I could live without. ‘Omni’ hands me a shimmery, colourful ball, and I instinctively reach out to take it. With my left hand. Wasn't I holding a spear in that hand? How did I not notice it vanishing along with everything else?
It’s at this point that I realise that I can’t actually move. My body reacted to his desires, but I can’t so much as blink by my own willpower… damn, this is some impressive shit, even for a demon… makes me wonder if he might not be something more... should I be capitalising his personal pronouns?
Quote:“This is Omnilium. It’s what ties the Omniverse together. Without it, you are nothing. With it, anything you desire can be yours. But you will need more than this. If you desire it enough, you will find it. You will find that using it comes naturally. Just think of what you desire most.”
Interesting stuff. There are Wish spells in my own world, so it’s not a totally foreign concept to me, but they’re costly, powerful magic, and almost exclusively the domain of the djinn… humans have a tendency to fuck up and accidentally turn wishes into curses instead when they try and use those. Some magic is just best left to higher beings… still, if this substance functions like Omni seems to be implying it will (i.e. if it actually works properly), then just leaving magic orbs like this lying around for anyone to go around using seems like one hell of a gift to bestow upon those he picks to bring along to this private reality of his.
That said, I do seem to get some sort of instinctive understanding of the orb’s ‘worth’ as I hold it… and it seems like I’d need to gather a lot of these things to cast a really big Wish spell. As I watch, after remaining inert in my hand for a few seconds, the sphere begins to warp and shift, slowly sinking into my flesh. Even when it seems to have gone completely, I still get a vague sense of how much of the stuff I have available to me, from somewhere in the back of my mind.
That’s handy. It does seem like it’d be pretty inconvenient to have to haul around sacks filled with hundreds of these little orbs, so it’s nice that Omni thought up this solution. I would compliment him on it, but this inability to move extends to my mouth and tongue and vocal chords as well, it seems.
Quote:“You will not be alone in the Omniverse. There are others. Of course, they, too desire Omnilium. Do not fear death. For as long as you interest me, you will be reborn.”
Wait. What?
Motherfucking what!?
Of course I’m not gonna be alone, that’s a no brainer; as awesome as I may be, even I’m not vain enough to assume that some demon or deity would go to the lengths of creating a whole new world just for me… even if this ‘world’ is a bit dark and empty right now.
Those last two sentences, though, spoken no less casually than the rest of Omni’s little monologue, are kind of a big fucking deal. Whilst it is true that I've managed to pretty much perfect the art of defensive magic – and have a few other tricks up my sleeves as well – actual reincarnation is something else entirely. Well, I guess this cinches is. Assuming that He's telling the truth about the whole 'resurrection' thing, and assuming it's really as easy as He makes it sound, Omni must be a god. Djinn & demons do technically have ways of accomplishing that sort of thing as well, but theirs come with major costs. The only ones, so far as I know, who can freely resurrect whomever they please, are the gods.
Quote:“That’s all you need to know right now. You’ll figure out the rest soon enough. I’ll be watching … and waiting.”
This sort of thing might be called stalker-ish, if done by a normal person, but it’s kind of expected for the higher beings to observe humanity with no regard for their privacy… in much the same way a person might watch a flock of birds or herd of deer with no thought that this might be infringing upon their rights. It’s natural. So I can’t say it bothers me.
The darkness fades to grey, then to white, and the silhouette of Omni is lost amidst the brightness. There is definitely ground beneath my feet now, though… or perhaps not ground, exactly. This substance, whatever it is, seems more like a floor than natural earth. It’s perfectly smooth, and neither warm nor cool… it’s strange, to say the least. There’s no breeze, either, which also seems to imply that this new place is all one immense room. There’s no one in my immediate vicinity, though I do see some figures in the distance. ‘Immense’ is the right word. Many of them look minuscule from this far away. If I wasn't already convinced that my abductor was divine in nature, the scale of this dimension of His would certainly make me seriously consider the possibility.
I turn, and find myself looking at a fountain of some kind. It's large. Very large. Twenty feet tall, at least, and eight wide. Sitting in the centre of a circular pond over a dozen feet in diameter and with a two-foot-high grey, stone wall bordering it, is what looks like a shipwrecked galleon, with only the upper half of the ship above the water, angled so steeply as to be almost vertical. All that’s left of its three masts are shattered stumps, and the rest of it doesn't look too healthy either.
From each of its portholes – and from several broken sections in which the wooden planking has been smashed away by something unknown – great streams of water pour, as if there is an endless supply of the stuff within the boat. The water level of the pond doesn't change in the slightest, though, so magic is obviously at work in some way… there are probably a plethora of means by which something like this could be set up, but I'm not really interested enough to bother wading – or swimming, depending on how deep this pool should turn out to be – over there to have a look.
So, shrugging to myself, a little perplexed by the seemingly arbitrary addition to the otherwise blank and featureless landscape, I turn away and begin walking. The others here have likely all had a lot longer than I to go around collecting those Omnilium balls, so I should probably avoid antagonising anyone… to begin with, at least.
Still, I might as well try talking to someone, I suppose, so I pick a speck in the distance at random and begin walking.
Time passes.
It does occur to me, before too long, that my clothes are still splattered with blood. Probably not the best way to make a first impression… but even if I did feel like wasting Omnilium ‘wishing’ for a clean sari, this random spot in the middle of this wide open, flat land isn’t exactly the most private of locations, so not really the best place to get changed. Whatever else I may be, I’m no flasher.
I keep walking.
Eventually, I realise that the thing I’m aiming for is: a) far further away than I originally thought; and b) not a person. In fact, it looks like some sort of archway.
As more time passes – I can’t tell how long exactly, without a sun in the sky to monitor, or some other means of keeping track, but I'm sure I must've been walking non-stop for over an hour by this point, no question. Probably well over an hour – I get a better look at the object. It seems to be made of sandstone, old, worn and eroded… as well as that, though… there seems to be something else through the arch.
I get closer still, and gradually realise what I'm looking at. This archway, somehow, seems to hold a portal leading into a desert. A little sand spills out onto the pristine, smooth surface of the ‘room’ I’m currently in. There’s what looks like a sky there too. This isn't quite like any portal or dimensional magic I can recall from my world; they all tended to have some sort of very obvious ‘magic-y’ effect… this just looks… natural… perhaps it isn't magic at all, actually. It could be that this vast building just sits in the middle of a desert somewhere, and that the arch is a doorway to the outside.
It seems like a reasonable explanation, but when I do finally reach my destination, I quickly realise that this is not the case. I had been thinking that perhaps the white space around the edges of the archway was a wall… there has to be one somewhere, after all… this white space can’t just go on forever, surely.
If there is, though, the wall certainly isn't here. I find I can walk all the way around the sandstone block, and when I do, I see some sand has drifted out on this side as well. What’s more, from this direction, I can feel a hot breeze blowing through the gateway. I stick an arm through first, to see if anything bad should happen; better to lose my hand than my head, after all. Other than feeling the increase in heat as a thus-far unseen sun beats down on my skin, though, nothing seems any different. It is as if I'm sticking my arm through a normal door. I suddenly find myself feeling very foolish indeed, and glance around, in case anyone has spotted this silly behaviour.
No. It doesn't look like it. There are a few people in the distance, walking too and fro, but I don’t see anyone close enough to make out what I've been doing… especially not with me being on the opposite side of this gate from that fountain, and so shielded from the view of most people by the archway and its portal. Of course, it's certainly possible that someone could be observing me from the distance with a telescope, or from a different location entirely, with the aid of scrying magic.
Omni, for example. Realistically, He probably got bored of my little stroll within a few minutes of its beginning and went off to go entertain Himself elsewhere… but who knows? Hells, it’s possible His name actually means something. If that ‘Omni’ indicates omnipotence, omniscience or omnipresence, He could easily be observing literally everything at once.
Withdrawing my arm from the gate, I cough awkwardly into my fist, then, deciding not to put this off any longer, I straighten myself up, holding my head high, and stride through the archway.
Let’s see what this ‘Omniverse’ has to offer.