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 Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 11:12 am Post subject: Larson, Bounty Killer CHAPTER 7 (on hiatus) |
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This tale is something of a spin off/ prequel to Death of an Age, as it features Larson, Forenius's confederate, in some of his own adventures, independent of the events of Death.
Although, as of right now, Larson has not been formally introduced in Death, in fact his first appearance was just in Chapter 8, in which his name has yet to be revealed, I felt compelled to write out some of his exploits.
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Last edited by Jack_D.Mented on Tue May 22, 2007 6:41 pm; edited 20 times in total
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| Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 11:13 am Post subject: |
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Chapter 1
“Hold still, dammit!” He cursed under his breath as the blood spurted and sprayed in his face, blinding him for a few seconds.
Wiping away the crimson mask, he raised the hatchet again. It was frustrating, really. He’d been hacking and chopping away for some time and the bastard’s head just refused to leave his shoulders. He could have left long ago if the stipulation for this contract was that he had to present the duke with his brother’s severed cranium.
It just so happened that his brother was blessed with neck sinews of steel. Perhaps not literally, but it sure as hell felt like it. He must have decapitated hundreds of men over the years, but the one time he had to have the head, absolutely HAD to have it, it just wouldn’t leave the body.
“God, if you were half this annoying in life, then it’s no wonder you’re worth so much dead,” The assassin mumbled as he took a breather from the strenuous task at hand.
During this break, a knocking on the chamber door suddenly seized the killer’s attention.
“I’m a comin’ in, my Lord. ‘Tis supper time,” Drifted in a kindly feminine voice.
Doing his best to cough a bit and disguise his voice, the henchman replied, “No thank ya, ma’am. I’m in no mood to sup.”
The door continued swinging open despite his desperate rush toward it. At the last possible second, he flung himself against it and sent the determined servant bouncing out into the hallway. He could hear plates shattering and a fat old lady hitting the ground even through the thick oak.
Now, with discovery imminent and the maid pretty much biting at his heels through the doorway, Larson made with a last ditch effort to remove his mark’s skull. Placing a foot on the victim’s shoulder and seizing the chin, he pulled with all his might, issuing forth with a mighty groan much like an angry bear. To his surprise, the reluctant Gulliver popped from its moorings and flew from his hands.
“I really should have given that a try sooner,” The smiling killer chortled, but his victory was short lived as the elderly servant popped in.
Seeing the blood and her master’s missing organ, she began to scream and shout, rushing about looking for the missing guards. He was left no choice but to cut her off short with a swift stroke of the hatchet, severing her head clean in one strike.
Looking at the blade in disbelief, the cloaked man asked, “What the hell was that? And you couldn’t do it any earlier?”
Hearing the pounding sound of the echoes from the heavily armored guards storming up the staircase, he grabbed the wayward noggin and leapt from the open window with little concern to his own safety. The swordsmen were but a second behind, bursting into the chamber, swords drawn only to find no sign of the murderer.
As luck would have it, there had been a passing cart containing enough hay to feed a stable full of horses beneath the escape route. Bouncing about, the red cloaked man rolled from the vehicle and hit the ground running. His next move was into the sewers deep beneath the city to redeem his contract.
Larson was truly glad that this was not his normal kind of work, as it was not his custom to kill innocents. The duke’s brother was a cruel man, a foul sadist and criminal who pretty much had it coming. No such animal deserved mercy of any measure. Getting paid for it was just a bonus. For this job, it was a very handsome bonus indeed.
The duke had known that the half elven bounty hunter was not accustomed to such work and had easily made it worth his while. Everyone fell on hard times, and it had just so happened to be his time when he was approached for such an unorthodox endeavor. He just hoped the duke would pay the full amount as promised. That was the problem with nobility, it seemed.
They were always out to screw someone.
“At least I got the job done,” He thought with a glance inside the burlap sack that contained the grisly price.
What he saw there gave him pause. He hoped his eyes were lying, but being half elf, he was unable to blame it on the darkness, as they were blessed with an uncanny ability to see in even the blackest of nights.
Taking another glance at the contents of the bag, he felt the rage welling up in the back of his throat like a massive dam about to burst. Throwing the worthless object on the ground in disgust, he cursed at his sheer rotten luck, the gods’ warped sense of humor, and, most of all, his own stupidity.
In his haste, he’d grabbed the wrong head…
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| Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 11:14 am Post subject: |
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So, decision point...
What does he do since he knows that he grabbed the wrong head?
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| Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 12:39 pm Post subject: |
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I say he should go back later on and get the right one. As he said it was tough times for everyone so he would need some $$$.
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| Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 4:03 pm Post subject: |
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Great chapter Dem.
A Good Chapter Medal coming up for you.
Er, depends on what they usually do with the bodies. Perhaps, if they put them on display for mourners, he could nip back and steal it?
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| Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 4:44 pm Post subject: |
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Seeing as how the head was so difficult to remove, perhaps you don't have the wrong appendage after all. Hang on to the head you have for the time, and then try to sneak back and fetch the other head if it turns out that you did indeed grab the wrong one. Seems like there was some enchantment on the original pate to begin with, else it wouldn't have been so firmly, undeniably attached.
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| Posted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 8:56 pm Post subject: |
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Sounds pretty cool this chapter. F5 fauna by the way.
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| Posted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 8:31 am Post subject: |
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Wow... thanks for the input. This has certainly gotten a much more positive reaction than I'd ever hoped for.
We now have a poll and I'd love to see some votes.
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| Posted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 8:41 am Post subject: |
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Wait a bit...I'm sure there is something funny about that head.
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| Posted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 8:46 am Post subject: |
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I read this today Jack, and it's most enjoyable 
A laugh escaped at the paragraphs describing his attempts at removing the head and you made an unexpected and good decision point.
I've voted for Fauna's suggestion - definately seems to be something suspicious going on, especially with how easy it was to remove the maid's head.
Keep it coming, and...
Happy Writing
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| Posted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 9:14 am Post subject: |
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F5 the others. Good start, Jack - and I want to see whether we're being duped by an illusioned head or something 
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| Posted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 5:12 pm Post subject: |
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I think it was a simple mistake. He needs to go and get the real one, and voted that way. And not winning.
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| Posted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 3:44 am Post subject: |
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Going with fauna and her gang.
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| Posted: Thu Apr 20, 2006 3:48 pm Post subject: |
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Ok. I'm feelin the mood comin on, so don't be surprised if I go ahead and crank out the next chapter...
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| Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:47 am Post subject: |
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Chapter 2
Calming his breathing, the bounty hunter, soothed his rage and thought through things as best he could. Perhaps there was something odd with this head. Perhaps it was some form of enchantment. Maybe the bastard saw it coming and did something special… something magical.
Or maybe Larson had gotten sloppy in his long years of adventure. That was possible too, but he dismissed that possibility on account of he didn’t like it. A valid reason any day in his book.
He unwrapped the brutalized cranium on the damp stone floor of the sewer and sat cross legged directly in front of it as if they were about to have a pleasant little conversation all to themselves and he wanted no interlopers. Which, on some level, was true.
Looking deep into the maid’s rolled back lifeless eyes like some lost lover, Larson began to doubt his own sanity for a second. But it wasn’t like he really had a damn thing to lose at this point.
“Ok, old lass, you’re goin to tell me all you know, if you like it not.”
Waiting a few seconds as he pursed his lips and took a swig from the flask he kept tucked away within the cloak. The sweet fire burned its way down his esophagus, reminding him that this wasn’t really just some jacked up dream.
And he’d had such high hopes there for a bit…
As he lowered the flask, he was greatly surprised to hear a voice speaking. Hurriedly stashing the booze back inside its cozy home within his garments, Larson leapt up and began to look about.
There was no one beside him.
No one behind him.
Hell, no one even above him.
That left only one place… (gulp) in front of him…
Slowly and with a belly full of unwholesome dread, the half elf turned his gaze, hoping to see some zombie, some ghoul, something, anything that he could kill with the hatchets dangling from his sides.
But today just wasn’t his day, as the head, lopsided and covered with gore locked its cold dead eyes with his own and curled its bluish upper lip in contempt.
“I gotta stop drinkin’.”
The bodiless skull spat out in response, “You bet your bottom dollar you should.”
“Or maybe, I should start drinkin’ more… maybe it’s dehydration,” The killer mused.
“Do you know who I am, boy?” The fiendish top snarled.
“Boy? I’m a man by all rights and intentions,” The hunter fumed. “Unlike you who are a useless hunk of bone and brain without a body. Not too sure why you’re talkin’ but… hey. Guess I can’t really argue with the way the dice land.”
Slightly flustered, the glazed blue eyes glared at him for a second but no longer was the man disturbed as he had seen worse things in his life than a talking cranium.
Besides, what was the worst it could do?
Bite his toes off?
A slight smile worked its slow way across his face at the absurdity of the thought, almost provoking outright laughter.
“And now you jest at me. Bastard!” The disgruntled bean demanded.
“How can I take you seriously when you’re still wearing that awful disguise?” Larson responded, fishing into a pouch on his belt for a pinch of some very special powder.
Puzzled and helpless, the noodle could do nothing but watch as the red cloaked assassin raised the grain into the air, offering homage to the gods and drawing upon a small bit of the clerical magics that he’d inherited from his full blood elf mother.
A couple of harshly whispered words and the enchantment was activated. Leaning over the irked crown, he sprinkled the film over it, being sure to get an even spread.
Before his very eyes, the face changed before him, shifting gradually like a surreal reflection from the maid servant to the lord and whoremonger that he’d been hired to dispatch.
“Well, well, look at that won’t ya?” The bounty killer asked, raising to his feet and dusting the remaining dust from his hands in congratulatory glee of a job well done like a hardworking farm hand.
“You misbegotten mongrel! Foul unfathered cretin! You will pay! Pay, I tell you!”
“Oh, shut up,” Larson commanded as he shoved the satchel that had previously been used for the carting of the crown into its mouth, effectively silencing it except for a few stubborn grunts that persisted.
The journey continued. Eventually, Larson began to speak to his unwilling companion for lack of anything better to do.
“You know, head, you’re gonna make me a very rich…” The statement drifted off there, ending suddenly and dropping off like a two ton weight.
What lay before him could only be described as total destruction. Blood and gore littered the floor like some cheap waste after a huge party. It was obvious that this was his employer and company… well what was left of them at least.
And Larson thought he knew right were to find the answers he needed. He hefted his domed friend and removed the gag from its mouth.
“Ok, what the hell happened?”
“Oh, its on. You’re in way over your head, boy,” The spiteful think tank replied, his words dripping with hate and malice.
“I don’t care about that. What exactly did this?”
Smiling for the first time in their adventures, the disembodied biscuit simply said, “ My body… my real body.”
For some reason, on some level, Larson knew that this was trouble. Big trouble.
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Last edited by Jack_D.Mented on Fri Apr 21, 2006 1:38 pm; edited 1 time in total
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| Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:48 am Post subject: |
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Ok, what does he do now?
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| Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:56 am Post subject: |
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Good chapter Jack
I'd say keep the head talking. It wants to tell you what's going on. It wants to gloat. Give it every opportunity to do just that. Egg it on, act outraged. I have a feeling you won't have to act that hard 
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| Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 2:40 pm Post subject: |
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I doubt this head has anything important or valuable to say. Keep it around for the amusement factor, but likely there isn't much connection between the enchanted head and the dead employer (other than the obvious that the original owner of the head was wanted dead, by the guy that is now scattered all over the floor).
The head disguised itself initially, and now gloats and taunts? If the body could hunt down and kill in search of the head, seems like the head would have wanted it to come after the bounty hunter. 
Of course the head emphasized real body, indicating that it might have been hacked (at great pains) from a fake body...perhaps hunting down your original target's closest family (other than, of course, this presently gory dead one that had wanted him dead--this death is getting complicating) and inquiring about the recently deceased might point you in the proper direction.
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| Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 3:33 pm Post subject: |
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Let it keep talking, it's bound to give a better explanation though it has a roundabout manner for it.
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| Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 4:26 pm Post subject: |
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Find out what it means and evaluate his risk, if he is threatened by the REAL body then maybe go and kill it. Otherwise, dump the head, or maybe sell it and find another job!
Nice chapter btw Jack.
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| Posted: Sun Apr 23, 2006 3:53 pm Post subject: |
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You may have to put a gag in his mouth, eventually probably.
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| Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 2:57 pm Post subject: |
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Got the poll up now. Great ideas about the head, guys.
Looking forward to writin the next chapter. And Larson says thanks for the nomination. (I think he might have a crush ).
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| Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 3:07 pm Post subject: |
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*votes for tracking down next of kin...and blows Larson a kiss for luck in the IFys*
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| Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:23 pm Post subject: |
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Wow...its true, you CAN make people being decapitated funny. Cool.
This is really great story, so far I read 4 chapters of Death of an Age. Lots of people here are really good writers...
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| Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:31 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks, man. Have fun and good reading. If your stuff so far has been a sign, you're gonna get along great here.
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| Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:37 pm Post subject: |
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For some reason, I don't think Larson would appreciate that one near as much, Lordy...
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| Posted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 8:56 pm Post subject: |
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Tell me more, tell me more..." Totally not in context I know, but really the words makes sense if you don't put them in the context of Grease.
I think I will just let Fauna blow the good luck kiss. I am more of a bad luck charm.... 
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Zeitgeist
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| Posted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 6:56 am Post subject: |
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I think that your half elven bounty killer Larson should ignore the elf in him and follow his human instincts..
If you dont understand it.. fear it.. if you fear it.. kill it.
I think this is a perfect time to break out the mallets and have some fun. 
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Jack_D.Mented
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| Posted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:05 am Post subject: |
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Ladies and gentlemen... my room mate.
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Eadgar's Saga Chapter 2 POLL
Abattoir Chapter 2!
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ethereal_fauna
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| Posted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:10 am Post subject: |
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*welcomes roommate*
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The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Smee
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| Posted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:22 am Post subject: |
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I've voted for provoke the Head more - we need to know something that gives us direction.
Welcome to Zeitgeist too.
Happy Playing
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The path of my life is strewn with cowpats from the Devil's own Satanic Herd!
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Zeitgeist
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| Posted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:31 am Post subject: |
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| thanks for the welcomes
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Jack_D.Mented
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| Posted: Mon May 01, 2006 11:39 am Post subject: |
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Chapter 3
Nudging some errant viscera out of his way with a black boot, Larson cleared the small creaky bench in the center of the subterranean chamber. Placing the smiling head upon the table before him, he pursed his lips and pondered how to begin this little talk. As he began to take his seat, he noticed something odd beneath his right buttock. Reaching down there, he removed the sliver of spleen with gloved hand as he prepared to speak.
“Alright, head. I think it’s time we had a… umm…a heart to heart, so to say,” The half elf began, espying that very organ lying about across the room.
“Heart to heart, funny, considering that as of right now, I lack one,” The crown responded with a smug smirk that just made Larson want to backhand it like an insolent child.
It was only by great restraint that he stopped himself from doing so.
Then, upon a second’s more thought, he decided it’d be shameful not to.
The smack thundered throughout the empty tunnels and the cranium cursed loudly as it rolled over and off the table, landing in a rather deep pool of blood. Further attempts at profanity were inhibited by a gurgling sound as it slowly began to drown in the fluid.
“Oh, so somebody’s not so high and mighty now, eh? Suppose you’d like a helpin’ hand since ya seem to be lacking one as of right now,” The red cloaked bounty killer taunted, feeling rather satisfied as he watched the crimson bubbles churn up to the surface of the shallow pool.
Picking up the skull by its hair, he hefted it high in the air and stared closely into its cruel beady little eyes.
“Ok, so we have ascertained that you can die, after all. So why don’t you just explain this whole little scenario to me from the beginning.”
“No. Whilst I’d love nothing more than to gloat, you’ll get no villain’s exposition from me, you ruffian!” The embittered dome spat out defiantly.
“Ok. Whatever. Let’s take a walk.”
A few minutes, two rights, and a left later, they were perched above a seemingly bottomless pit of excrement, the odor of which drifted up in a foul vapor that nearly made the fortune hunter dry heave had it not been for his resolve to show no weakness. The brown waste bubbled and toiled, churning with the obscene creatures that lurked within.
Holding the knob high above this unpleasant olfactory sensation, the interrogation was renewed.
Seeing his own demise at hand significantly lessened the unnatural thing’s resistance and he crumbled, finally giving in to his assassin’s demands.
“I was magically grafted to another body, in anticipation of my own… untimely demise,” The think tank hastily attempted to explain.
“Then what is your real body? What the hell are you?” The swashbuckler spat out in rapid fire.
“This may be kind of hard for your mortal mind to grasp, but I so happen to be a more than talented necromancer.”
“Necromancy doesn’t include mounting your own head on other bodies last time I checked. Out with it, shorty,” The dark eyed adventurer demanded.
“That’s a little something new I figured out… after I sold my soul for the Tome of Eternal Darkness.”
“The Tome of Eternal Darkness? As in the most Unholy of Unholies? As in written in the blood of virgins and bound in the skin of the last of the great shadow dragons?” The rogue asked, disbelieving the words that came from the undead mouth.
“Yes. As in it was pinned by the demon king Aryeh Vavrin himself during what time he was banished to this plane.”
“Do you know what you have done, you twit?”
“Yes, I have given myself life eternal for a minimal cost.”
“A minimal cost being the lives of every man, woman, and child upon this planet?”
“What? I am unfamiliar with that…”
“If you were familiar with Elven prophecy and lore, you’d know that His return is heralded by the return of His greatest work to this land. You’ve doomed us all, you pathetic fool,” Larson said as his face darkened, turning to stone.
Realizing what he had done, the shock of the former underworld kingpin was plain to see in the seconds before he was released into the pool of impurities to die his final death beneath the bubbling mass.
Larson stood high upon the ledge watching his former target sink as he contemplated his next move. He’d need help for this one, but from what he had learned, he had but a small amount of time to gather allies. Where would one find brave men when they were needed?
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Jack_D.Mented
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| Posted: Mon May 01, 2006 11:40 am Post subject: |
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DP:
Where can Larson find some help fast?
Ideas anyone?
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Mon May 01, 2006 12:04 pm Post subject: |
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Yeah, I'd agree with Lordy, to some extent.
Larson should ride, fast as he can, to the nearest halfway decent town or city, hook up with the thieves' or hunters' guilds there and see if he can get anyone interested in the certain death of everyone on the face of the planet.
He might get a few polite smiles in response. You never know
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