You have 2 weeks to complete this battle. May the best man win!
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You have 2 weeks to complete this battle. May the best man win!
“It was only frightening at first,” Karel Vladavitch said. “But I’ve since come to realize the benefits.”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Ivan said.
Ivan sat with Karel near the glowing fireplace, sipping spiced cider. Marcus stood apart near the window with heavy arms crossed over his chest, looking out over the snow-dusted streets of Knife’s Edge. It was home, and he’d been away for so long.
“I suppose it began innocently enough. My wife told me I’d been sleepwalking, and I thought nothing of it. She told me that I would wander the apartment at night, looking at things as if seeing them for the first time.”
Marcus tore his eyes from the window to allow a brief glance back at Ivan, his brother in arms. The sun bisected the room in pale, slanted beams, and the light was full of motes. Karel and Ivan were orange silhouettes. Ivan was the senior knight but Marcus now outranked him. Still, Book followed the more experienced paladin’s lead. He said nothing.
“Tell me when you first realized what was happening,” Ivan said.
“I don’t think I realized it all at once,” Karel said. “It was gradual. I started waking up sore, and my wife said I was exercising in the night. Exercising! I’ve never done such a thing in all my life; there’s never been the time. I began painting in my sleep, and I would finish my wife’s sewing. She said I’d been reading, but I’m illiterate, you see. And then he began to leave me messages.”
“He?” Ivan said.
“The other,” Karel said after a moment of finding the right word. “The sleeping-me. My guest, I suppose you could call him.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“Not to be afraid,” Karel said immediately. “He wrote…here, I have the messages, I can show you. I can’t read them, you know, but Ingrid can. She was a governess’ daughter.”
Ivan looked over the leaflets Karel handed him. They were covered in thin, elegant handwriting. The messages were all familiar: be not afraid, I mean you no harm, I bring peace and health, I only wish to experience the world through you.
It was evidence enough to act.
“Karel,” Ivan said as gently as he could, “I believe you are possessed by a thing from beyond our world.”
“Oh, I’m not possessed,” Karel said with a wavering smile. “It’s more like…like a passenger, you see. And things have been so good since it started. I…so much gets done now. Around the house, you see.”
“Sometimes it happens like this. Sometimes, it really is this simple. Just something from somewhere else that wants to see the world through your eyes, and it has good intentions. Often though, it just starts out that way, and things get worse. Either way, Karel, something must be done about it. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand,” Karel said, his smile quickly fading, his eyes growing concerned. “I told you, it helps me.”
“You will have to make do without it,” Ivan said. “Please forgive me. This will hurt, but only for awhile.”
Karel tried to run, but Marcus was ready for him. He tackled him to the floor just a foot from the door, and dragged him by the ankle back to the center of the room. Karel scratched rents in the wood floor with his fingernails trying to claw his way free, but the templar was stronger. Book held the man down, and Ivan performed the exorcism.
Karel screamed first for the pain, but when it was over he wept for the loss.
The paladins left him to his grief.
***
“That was a good catch,” Ivan said shortly after, as they stood together on the street corner.
“The demon was old,” Marcus said, sticking his hands in his pockets for warmth. “I could smell it from down here. It must have been his…passenger for awhile now. I doubt it would have ever caused trouble.”
“It isn’t our place to say,” Ivan said with a shrug.
“No,” Marcus agreed. “What now?”
“Some dinner, I think,” Ivan said. “Would you care to join me?”
Book shook his head, and sighed. His breath produced a puff of steam. “I’m going to walk for awhile. I’ll meet up with you later.”
They clasped at the forearm, said their traditional farewells, and parted company, each disappearing into the thin crowd of a post-war Knife’s Edge.
Baxter looked down upon his chest at the raging demon within him, the beast not wishing to end this, but the pen write was rather tired and really, really wanted that sleep he deserved. He had played fool for Symbiote long enough, and now it was his turn to dictate the next course of action.Quote:
I hate to break this to you, and I know a PM would be better suited, but i also can use this for a double whammy.
I was really looking forward to you as one of my opponents. Advancing this far without really winning a battle has really just sucked all the energy out of me for this. I do not have the creative skills at this moment to offer you a true fight. So instead of drag you with me into a long, drawn out fight, I'd rather submit this to you. Take these two weeks to rejuvenate the juices, and when the tourny is over I would love to have Symbiote and Marcus dance.
"No, I am pulling my name from this silly tournament! Really? I don't even have any skills in fighting. If we met a person, and say we had imaginary character sheets, mine would have ZERO combat skills. None, nada, zilch. Not even bar brawling. I do think that Sheex Deltin fellow could honestly kick our ass! I mean this literally! What prayer did you think we had?"
The demon casually swirled around the human's ribs like a leviathan, chuckling. When it passed by Baxter's heart it coiled around it and spoke softly. "I really just wanted to see what getting your ass kicked was like. From my perspective, it's a blast!"
"I figured as much. Now come, I wish to go to bed."
"Hey Binky Boy," The demon whispered. "Think we could get freaky with that succubus again?"
((Withdrawing, good luck to you sir.))
Out of Character:
Amen advances to the Quarter Finals!