01-11-2017, 01:52 PM
I've been walking for hours when a completely new experience presents itself.
I'm stalking through the depths of the woods, allowing this easily-tired body some time to recuperate from hurling minute-long barrages of arcing, leaping death. The forest is thicker here, the trees closer together, and only the occasional dapple of sunlight penetrates the canopy, flickering brilliant gold against my unconquerable hide.
Just as I begin to wonder if this forest is ever going to end, a man drops out of the branches above, and onto the road in front of me, landing in a crouch and rising gracefully to his feet.
He's short - shorter than me, anyway - and thin, dressed in dark-green cloth and chainmail with leather strips woven between the links. There's a sword at his hip, grease and leaves in his bright red hair, and a cocky smile, the first smile that I've ever seen, plastered across his face.
Baring the teeth to show a lack of hostility. What a bizarre idea!
"Hello there friend," he says, dripping with cheerful familiarity and resting a hand on his sword. "I couldn't help noticing you're an awfully shiny fellow, what with that fine golden armor and all, and as it happens I'm a little short of funds at the moment. I'm sure you know how this works - financial remuneration, resulting in compensation, by a lack of violent altercation!"
I've never been mugged before. Attacked? Yes. Assaulted? definitely. Bombarded? Many times. But nobody has ever tried to coerce me into giving them anything. Not until now, anyway.
What a fantastic opportunity!
"Who are you.Tell me about yourself." I demand, watching him intently.
He sketches a mocking bow. "Well now, I do appreciate the courtesy, your lordship. Usually it's all, 'you can't do this', and 'do you know who I am', and 'what the mud-spackled hell is going on', and I have to cuff my customers smartly about the ear to make them pay attention. But you sir, are clearly a gentleman of breeding, wanting to know the story of a lowly brigand such as myself!"
The thief takes a moment to preen (a word I deeply enjoy, though watching him perform the act is irritating), running his hands through his hair and straightening his chainmail. I wait, and think of how much sweeter his destruction will be once I know what it is I'm taking from the world.
"The name is Brock Coxley, not to be confused with Loxley. Thief, Secondary, and soldier-of-fortune, at your service. My exciting tale begins several years back, when a forgotten Prime of quite excellent taste summoned me to be his lieutenant in the troupe of bandits and rogues he was seeking to assemble. I didn't have a life before that, made whole-cloth out of Omnilium, but my summoner made me smart, and he made me strong, and if I do say it myself, devastatingly attractive."
He flashes me another proud smile. As near as I can tell, he remains unbearably ugly, just like everyone else I've met since coming here. I'm far more interested in the fact that he's apparently made of Omnilium. What was it the grinning bastard said? It ties the Omniverse together?
I focus on the well of raw potential within me, and then I focus on the long-winded brigand - and I can feel the Omnilium in him calling out to me, the same way life-essence used to, or raw magnetic charge. It's a strange sensation, like the miracle substance is... suspended somehow, but if I were to put my hands on him, I think I could reach out and touch it.
Coxley goes on, "That worthy fellow wasn't quite as clever as me, though, and he ended up getting banished to the fiery underverse in short order, leaving me in charge of his group of Burly and Violent - definitely not merry - men. Who, by the way, are pointing an assortment of very dangerous projectile weapons at you right this very moment. We've been quite successful. Robbing from the rich, paying the poor a discounted price for assorted goods and services that we then use to continue to rob from the rich - We're big contributors to the local service-economy."
The thief draws his sword, a long, thin blade which utterly fails to impress me. "Speaking of which, as much as I do enjoy talking about myself, its time that we got down to the business at hand, eh?"
I agree wholeheartedly.
"Do you know how I can get more Omnilium, Brock Coxley?" I ask him.
The bandit laughs, and levels his blade at my face. "Maybe I was wrong, sir. You don't understand how this works. I'm here to take things from you, not help you get more of anything, let alone Omnilium. So, seeing as you're apparently a Prime, if you could just take a minute to give me some Omnilium, preferably in the form of gold, or other equivalent currency, I'll be on way, and you can keep your lovely armor."
This time I smile. The eyes of my two dormant heads flutter for a moment, a tingle in my shoulders, reacting to my sense of predatory triumph.
Speaking low, I growl, "I'm not wearing armor."
The thief looks confused, and starts to say something, but I don't give him the time.
I unleash the lightning.
I'm stalking through the depths of the woods, allowing this easily-tired body some time to recuperate from hurling minute-long barrages of arcing, leaping death. The forest is thicker here, the trees closer together, and only the occasional dapple of sunlight penetrates the canopy, flickering brilliant gold against my unconquerable hide.
Just as I begin to wonder if this forest is ever going to end, a man drops out of the branches above, and onto the road in front of me, landing in a crouch and rising gracefully to his feet.
He's short - shorter than me, anyway - and thin, dressed in dark-green cloth and chainmail with leather strips woven between the links. There's a sword at his hip, grease and leaves in his bright red hair, and a cocky smile, the first smile that I've ever seen, plastered across his face.
Baring the teeth to show a lack of hostility. What a bizarre idea!
"Hello there friend," he says, dripping with cheerful familiarity and resting a hand on his sword. "I couldn't help noticing you're an awfully shiny fellow, what with that fine golden armor and all, and as it happens I'm a little short of funds at the moment. I'm sure you know how this works - financial remuneration, resulting in compensation, by a lack of violent altercation!"
I've never been mugged before. Attacked? Yes. Assaulted? definitely. Bombarded? Many times. But nobody has ever tried to coerce me into giving them anything. Not until now, anyway.
What a fantastic opportunity!
"Who are you.Tell me about yourself." I demand, watching him intently.
He sketches a mocking bow. "Well now, I do appreciate the courtesy, your lordship. Usually it's all, 'you can't do this', and 'do you know who I am', and 'what the mud-spackled hell is going on', and I have to cuff my customers smartly about the ear to make them pay attention. But you sir, are clearly a gentleman of breeding, wanting to know the story of a lowly brigand such as myself!"
The thief takes a moment to preen (a word I deeply enjoy, though watching him perform the act is irritating), running his hands through his hair and straightening his chainmail. I wait, and think of how much sweeter his destruction will be once I know what it is I'm taking from the world.
"The name is Brock Coxley, not to be confused with Loxley. Thief, Secondary, and soldier-of-fortune, at your service. My exciting tale begins several years back, when a forgotten Prime of quite excellent taste summoned me to be his lieutenant in the troupe of bandits and rogues he was seeking to assemble. I didn't have a life before that, made whole-cloth out of Omnilium, but my summoner made me smart, and he made me strong, and if I do say it myself, devastatingly attractive."
He flashes me another proud smile. As near as I can tell, he remains unbearably ugly, just like everyone else I've met since coming here. I'm far more interested in the fact that he's apparently made of Omnilium. What was it the grinning bastard said? It ties the Omniverse together?
I focus on the well of raw potential within me, and then I focus on the long-winded brigand - and I can feel the Omnilium in him calling out to me, the same way life-essence used to, or raw magnetic charge. It's a strange sensation, like the miracle substance is... suspended somehow, but if I were to put my hands on him, I think I could reach out and touch it.
Coxley goes on, "That worthy fellow wasn't quite as clever as me, though, and he ended up getting banished to the fiery underverse in short order, leaving me in charge of his group of Burly and Violent - definitely not merry - men. Who, by the way, are pointing an assortment of very dangerous projectile weapons at you right this very moment. We've been quite successful. Robbing from the rich, paying the poor a discounted price for assorted goods and services that we then use to continue to rob from the rich - We're big contributors to the local service-economy."
The thief draws his sword, a long, thin blade which utterly fails to impress me. "Speaking of which, as much as I do enjoy talking about myself, its time that we got down to the business at hand, eh?"
I agree wholeheartedly.
"Do you know how I can get more Omnilium, Brock Coxley?" I ask him.
The bandit laughs, and levels his blade at my face. "Maybe I was wrong, sir. You don't understand how this works. I'm here to take things from you, not help you get more of anything, let alone Omnilium. So, seeing as you're apparently a Prime, if you could just take a minute to give me some Omnilium, preferably in the form of gold, or other equivalent currency, I'll be on way, and you can keep your lovely armor."
This time I smile. The eyes of my two dormant heads flutter for a moment, a tingle in my shoulders, reacting to my sense of predatory triumph.
Speaking low, I growl, "I'm not wearing armor."
The thief looks confused, and starts to say something, but I don't give him the time.
I unleash the lightning.