Empty
 

I am empty now. I don't feel anything. I don't feel happy... sad... angry... afraid... regretful... I don't feel anything. What caused this emptyness? Even this nothing inside me must have a progenator... But what could it be?

I need to step backwards. Look at it from a different angle. See the whole and not the now. First step: Identify the now.

I have a sword stuck through my head, although I don't know enough about swords to say what kind. It is made of silver, or at least, it appears to be. The blade has golden designs laid into it painting a picture of a flowery field. They are roses. It could be said that Enos loved roses, but who was Enos? My blood runs jagged, random paths down the blade, filling the design and making the field so much more beautiful. Some of the blood manages to reach the hilt of the sword, dripping off ever so slowly. I am not bleeding as much as I was. I am dying.

The hilt seems to be made of a gold-colored metal, though I doubt it is actual gold. The grip of the hilt is made of a wonderfully dark wood, carved perfectly for the hand that would one day hold it. No one is holding it now. When did this person leave?

The blade seems to be piercing through my left eye, as I cannot see through it. I think the blade goes all the way through my head, and into something else, for I am stuck. I would try and pry the blade out, but my arms won't move. That's okay. I would still die even if I wasn't pinned to this wall. How do I know it's a wall?

I thought death was supposed to hurt. Instead it is boring... Slow, meaningless, and boring...

I think the thing that bothers me most about this whole experience is that I don't know what I did to deserve this. Was I a bad person? Was the person who did this bad? What happened to make someone kill me?

...

I should be dead by now. I should have been dead as of several hours ago. Has it really been hours? Or does it just feel like hours?

Fuck this. If I was gonna die I would have. I'm fine... Well, I'm definitely not fine, but I need to quit my bitchin' and get unpinned from this wall.

EDIT: The person who posted after me deleted their post, so I deleted mine, so there wouldn't be a double post. I honestly don't care if other people want to post stuff they've done in this thread, this is just something I felt like doing. Anyways, here is what had been in the post below...

Of course, even though I had decided to stop being stuck to the wall, that is a far cry from fulfilling that wish. I still couldn't move my arms, and I had no idea why. I could move my legs, a fact I discovered by stomping on the floor. The weird thing was that it felt like my arms were moving, but I couldn't touch my head or grab the sword or anything. It felt like they were moving, but they just weren't... I can't help but feel a little offended and irritated that my brain would deceive me like that. Then again, I was glad to be able to feel again, though I still didn't feel any pain...

However, even my slightly impaled brain is capable of coming up with ideas that make some amount of sense. I lifted my legs, a feat I did not relish as that meant my weight was being supported by my head being supported by a sword, and began pushing off against the wall. My head began sliding forward along the blade, my right eye seeing the hilt grow closer and closer, and then it stopped. I believe it was at this point that I realized how retarded my plan was. I was going to try and use my skull to yank a sword out of a stone wall. However, I wasn't going to let a short flash of intelligence keep me from doing something dumb! I was a teenager after all...

I began to push against the wall with all my might, and that was when I started to feel pain again... Some people talk about blinding pain. That is nothing. It takes a comparatively small amount of pain to temporarily blind a person. This was more like being beaten over the head with carbonated Satan. Yes, I know what I just said. I know it doesn't make any sense. Regardless, carbonated Satan is the only term that properly applies to the pain I felt in that instant. However, there was a worse pain... And that is when I fell two seconds later... The hilt slammed into the stone floor and was smashed further into my skull. I believe my exact words were:

"Jesus on a monkey biscuit! Fuckways and a halfways! Motherfroogingassbastard!" I continue to search for meaning in those words to this day...

EDIT 2: Figured I'd type some more. It's fun.

I was writhing in pain on the ground, and the blood was pouring profusely. My arms still seemed to be arguing with my brain, and now that I could move my head, albeit painfully and barely, I could now see the problem. It seems it would is hard to move your arms if they aren't there. I couldn't help but feel that I must have done something extremely rude to deserve this. That's assuming I deserved this. I managed to rise onto my knees, and the sword slid out of my face, a sensation I hope none of you ever have the pleasure of enduring. Now, my depth perception may have been screwed to Hell, but I still had just enough vision to know that I'd feel a lot safer in this room if I could've picked up that sword.

Now there wasn't anything particularly menacing about this room. I didn't even feel mildly threatened. However, when you are confronted with a reality that is clearly broken on several different levels, you can't help but want something to defend yourself, even if there isn't anything to defend yourself from. The walls seemed regular enough for the most part, being made of granite blocks cemented together in a standard pattern. The door was a door that, although you wouldn't see it in your daily life, seemed to fit the decorum. It was a steel door, slightly rusted, with a barred window, the whole door seeming to belong to a Middle Ages jail cell. Even the writing on the walls, though rude and seemingly directed at me, just fit in a way that I can't explain. Blood graffiti that screamed such things as "Monster!", "Twisted fuck!", and, my personal favorite if just for the fact that it made the least sense to me, "You damned abomination! It's all your fault!"

These didn't break physics, and they fit the decorum. My mind isn't going to fail to grasp these simple things. What my mind will fail to grasp is holes in reality in the walls where the matter is literally stretched to fill in the hole, these holes twisting and warping stone before my very eyes. My mind isn't going to sit right with the fact that these walls seem to be breathing. Or that they're screaming. I might have overlooked these small things if not for the skylight. There was no ceiling in this broken room. Instead, there was a perfect, open view of the hazy, red sky, complete with flying rivers of blood and arching balls of fire sailing across the great expanse.

Now, although I did appreciate having a room all to myself and not having to sign a lease, I didn't like the atmosphere, and thus decided to leave. This presented a problem that not many can appreciate, for even if there had been a handle on my side of the door, assuming it wasn't locked to begin with, I lacked the proper tools, those tools being arms, to open said door. As I had yet to master opening handleless doors with my feet, I decided to knock... With my head. I immediately regretted this decision.

EDIT 3: Still adding and editing, despite the fact that nobody seems to like it. Meh. It's good practice if nothing else. This part has a lot more dialogue. I hate writing dialogue, and you know why, because I suck at it. I admit it.

I was answered by a tap on the shoulder, or what was left of it... Now, I can guarantee that I had, until this tap on the shoulder, been alone in the room. Didn't think I was alone... Didn't assume... I was alone, period. Spinning around, and almost falling over in the process, I was greated by the presence of a Demon. He was very tall, as all Demons are... In fact, he was several feet taller than I, who am of average height for a human. His eyes were silver, flecked with red. Mine are green, with a slightly brown color around the edges. His hair, like mine, was black, although his was much longer and lacked the shock of white that made my hair so memorable. His face was strikingly gaunt and pointed, looking almost as if it was made of planes. My face, though neither muscular nor chubby, has a much more rounded sense to it, though I am thin myself, as Wizards usually are. He was smiling. I found myself unable. However, the most striking difference in our countenances is that he had long, black ram's horns, and I had no horns at all, though I can't say I was jealous.

Other than that, the only mentionable differences are that he wore a skin-tight leather outfit with plates of mail embedded in it, and I wore naught but tattered, brown robes.

This Demon had his right hand around the hilt of his sword, which hung on the left side of his waist. I looked down at the sword that had once nailed me to a wall, and wished once again that I could pick it up, though it would be redundant to explain why I still could not.

"Am I to assume that you are the owner and proprietor of this establishment and that you were the one so gracious as to stab me in the head with enough force to nail me to a stone wall?" I asked the Demon, too sore and in too much pain to care that those might be the last words I ever spoke.

"Yes, Human. This is my dungeon, and I am the one who did that to you," he replied in a low, growling, monotone voice.

"Might I ask why?"

"No, you may not."

"Okay... What can I ask?"

"Nothing. Instead, I shall ask you some questions."

"Apparently you haven't noticed, but I'm the one out of the loop here. I don't think I'll be able to answer your questions."

"That's fine. My questions are... easy to answer."

"Shoot."

"What is your name?"

"Man, that is an easy question... It's Chase Doon. Or, at least, I think it is. I probably suffered a ton of brain damage."

"Do not worry, Sir Doon. This place prevents any damage from being permanent."

"So, my arms will grow back?"

"Eventually... Next question: Who are you?"

"Chase Doon... Unless you mean, what kind of person I am... I think I am a good person, though I can't remember well... I know I am a Wizard, and that I am known for my power, though I do not actually hold any positions of power... Other than that, I do not know... Why do you care?"

"Something you said before I stabbed you has been bothering me... You're the only human I know of who actually thinks this way..."

"What way? What did I say?"

"You said, 'Demons make their own choices, too. They are Angels of Shadow, but Angels just the same. You don't have to be evil.'" The Demon vanished.

I've been following this, watching and reading. I'll certainly read more, if you'll post it.

Oh, cool and Kaschwiggity! I've been plotting out some more, I just got distracted. I'll post some more later today!

I like it, but I dont like being depressed, so I dont love it

Wow, this is great stuff so far. Lucky for me, I don't usually lurk the Creative board, but I'll be following this if you continue. Was this a spur of the moment thing or something you've had planned out for some time?

EDIT: Added more story!

First, just want to apologize for the delay in getting this posted. It turns out that when a girl wants to go somewhere for just a little while, it means the rest of the day. Or, at least, that's the case with Liz. Anyways, here is some more story, already working on some more, and I'll get that posted relatively soon.


“Don’t dwell on the past… It’s not worth it… Focus on the future… Focus on killing Samaj,” I told myself as I lay in the cramped tent. The walls of the tent were paper thin, and I was surprised it hadn’t collapsed , seeing how poor quality the supports were. My brown robes, which I had folded and set next to myself, who lay sleeping between two thin, wool blankets, were in almost worse condition than the ones I had been wearing in that dungeon so long ago.

Had it really been that long? In one sense, it felt like it had happened ages ago. On the other hand, my memories were as vivid as if it had happened only a week ago. My scythe lay on top of my robes, taking up what room might have been left inside the shoddy shelter. I know that a scythe is probably a strange weapon for a Wizard to be wielding. Especially a good-aligned Wizard, who would not want the negative connotations often associated with scythes attached to him.

However, I had made that scythe myself, and it was powerful. It wasn’t the weapon I would have been best with, in all likelihood, as I was originally trained to use a staff. But the scythe had much sentimental value to me, and it was worth it, at least to me. It was called, and would forever be know as, the Uber-Scythe! Maybe not the best name, but I was having an off day, and didn’t want to put the effort into coming up with a better one.

This is where my mission started. This is where I began my quest to kill Samaj, and ancient and powerful demon and the eldest of three brothers. The middle, Mortein, I believed to be the one responsible for the destruction of a church in Virlento. As for the youngest, his name was Kethnir, once he was once called my friend.

“Goddammit! Chase, stop dwelling on the bad. The failures. The mistakes.”

I am alone. I have been alone since childhood. I am destined to die alone. When you are alone, you learn that it is best to just trust in yourself. The only person I truly trust is myself, and so that is the one I speak to more than any other. Some may be convinced that speaking to yourself is a sign of insanity, but I know that without talking to myself, I would have crossed that threshold long ago.

At that time, I was happier being alone, and I cannot say for sure whether I was better off alone. However, I do know that I am glad for the time I spent with Kethnir. I am glad for the time I spent with the paladin and the others. The paladin named Robert Johnson.



This was really spur of the moment. Originally, this was going to be a story about a man trying to escape Hell, and turning out that, due to Hell existing outside normal space-time, he was the one who did those things to himself. Later, I noticed a similarity between the attitude of Chase Doon, a D&D character I ran. I have decided that this is going to cover Chase's history, as well as the quest I ran him in. I will change the events of the campaign a bit, but I will keep the overall events the same. Specifically, you will notice how the universe seems to just want to make life miserable for Chase. This is because that was how the game was. My character was the comedic relief that always had bad stuff happen to him, and another one of the characters, run by the DM's best friend, was always right, and every plan he ever did turned out right, and blah blah blah. It does start off depressing, but I am going to add in a lot of comedic stuff so it's not overwhelming. Thinking out the overall plot right now, but a lot of stuff will still be spur of the moment, first draft stuff that I'll go back and change later if I need to.

Huh, I should really visit this forum more often. I like your story, and will await any further chapters.

...Just barely reminds me of this.

I just want to say that I did not come up with the name of the tavern, nor the idea that the bartender smoked green cigars. Anyways, here begins the first signs of the universe picking on my character, for no good reason.

Of course, I get ahead of myself. I am self-absorbed, and I’d rather keep talking about myself than the main character. This was his story, and I was just a part of it… A rather insubstantial and meaningless part. Do not confuse what I am saying with hero worship. Yes, Robert had many admirable qualities, however, he had many that weren’t so admirable. First, he was after Samaj for revenge. I just wanted to make the world a better place, to keep cleansing it of evil. Furthermore, he would use people just to accomplish this goal. He cared nothing about us, and nothing about cleansing the world of evil. He would let the evil or the wicked go if it served his goals. I wonder now, how such a man could be a Paladin.

It’s rather obvious. He was a favorite of the gods. Gods are just as petty and superficial as humans are. No matter how good or noble a person is, if the Gods decide, for whatever reason, that they don’t like a person, he is doomed to suffer. It is wretched and unfair, but the world isn’t fair.

The Gods don’t like me… In fact, they hate me. Maybe it’s because I don’t judge a person based on their race, as they would have me do. A God says that all demons, regardless of its actions or beliefs, is an evil entity, to be destroyed for no other reason but its lineage. I never bought into that. I even befriended a demon. That is why, or at least part of the reason, that the Gods want me to suffer.

The tale of my quest begins in a tavern, clichéd as it sounds, in the town of Virlento. Virlento was a large town centered around a temple set up so that multiple faiths could practice there. The Temple of Virlento also had a room devoted to a local Council of Mages, which had summoned me here to help some others solve an incident regarding a church in the Nir Forest, which lay just outside Virlento. I wasn’t needed at the Council for another ten minutes… I could make it in time easily, but not before a drink. The first thing I noticed when I entered the Green Dragon was a sign that said, “No Casting.”

The Green Dragon was an average bar, and of surprisingly low quality. Everything was made of wood, which is not big deal, or even surprising, but I don’t like it when all the wood is covered in mildew. My table even had a mushroom growing out of it. I was less than impressed. The place was very busy, why I don’t know, to the point that you couldn’t hear a damn thing. I walked up to the bartender, a filthy, bald, fat man in a greasy white shirt and brown overalls, asked, “Can I get a pint?”

After taking a long puff on a cigar which emitted the strangest green smoke, he replied, “What?”

“CAN I HAVE A PINT?”

“WHAT?”

“PINT!”

“PINT?”

“YES!”

“That’ll be right out, Wizard. Myrtle! This guy needs a pint!” he yelled to the back room.

“Can you ask her to get it out quickly? I’m in a hurry,” I told him, making sure to say it directly into his ear so he would hear me over everyone else in the tavern.

“Yeah, yeah… Myrtle! Hurry it up back there!” His response was a large iron ladle that flew out and smashed into his large head. The ladle was followed by a woman who’s obesity was only rivaled by the bartender’s. She wore a filthy white dress, and an even filthier apron. I began to wonder if these people had ever heard of bathing. However, I did not wonder long, for my thoughts were interrupted by the pint of beer now in front of me. I began chugging it down as I shoved the money into the bartender’s hand. Between gulps I began to say, “You know… you two… should be nicer to… each other…”

I promptly found myself face down on the cobblestone streets outside. I was in a lot of pain. Standing and brushing myself off, I began running in the direction of the Temple. I still had a few minutes before I would be late.

I like it man, keep it coming!

I said I'd do something, and not only did I do it, but I did it early. Yay! Two more characters introduced, and you learn that Chase is badawesome. We all started the campaign at level twenty.



I ran. I did not care whether or not I was late, but I still ran. They had to think I cared about whether or not I was late, otherwise they’d just give the job to someone else. Someone less experienced. Someone who might not survive this task.

Through miracle after man-made miracle, I have survived much longer than anyone despised by the Gods should. During that time, I have become a very strong Wizard. I can grant my own wishes, though it is a very draining experience. I can end lives with one word. I can steal and seal away souls. I can open gates to other dimensions. I can bend the world to my will. I am not the strongest, but I am close. If someone else went, it would likely be someone more popular amongst the Mage Council, someone popular, yet weaker. They might not survive. I couldn’t risk someone else going when I could prevent it. It wasn’t a matter of whether I arrived on time or not. They had to think it mattered to me to arrive on time, which I didn’t. I just wanted them to think it did.

I ran, and I ran quickly, ignoring the world around me and focusing on each step, and on taking it sooner than the one previous it. The world became a blur, rushing by me as I stared at the ground where my next step would be.

It was too late too stop when I noticed that someone clad in armor occupied the spot where my next step would be. I smashed my right shoulder into the armored individual, spun around, fell, and smashed my head on a rock. It hurt. The world became red and blurry.

“Guile, who is that?” said a female voice, from a large silvery blur.

“A Wizard. An injured Wizard who needs to learn to watch where he is going.” said a black blur.

“Well, help him, Guile.”

“Why should I?”

“You’re a terrible Cleric.”

“Fine, fine, but if you need a Lesser Healing later in the day, don’t blame me when I only have three left.”

There was a flash of white, and suddenly the world became clear again. Standing over me were a female Paladin, clad in blue-tinted, full-plate armor, with a large sword strapped to her back, and a male Cleric, wearing all black leather armor, with a mace at his side. The blonde Paladin lowered her hand to me and helped pull me up. She had dark brown eyes and a fair complexion. I was too busy staring at the strange Cleric to notice. He had short, black hair that was slicked back, a gaunt, pale face, and dim, hazel eyes.

“My name is Leah, and this is Guile. Nice to meet you…” she began.

“Chase L. Doon. Nice to meet you, too. Thanks a bunch. Gotta run!” I began my sprint once more, running like a madman, and all for the sake of appearances.

Well, I deleted the scene that everyone seemed to hate. It's done. Anyways, still on hiatus unless anyone wants me to bring it back...