Discussion in 'Fluff and Stories' started by Y'ttar Scaletail, Jun 3, 2016.
Do you think I'm as Thick as a Brick? - that Tkull guy has a flute, too.
Won'dring Aloud if my Passion Play was understood by you Mouse Police (Who Never Sleep) that the Pied Piper was a literal Tkull than my Warlock Engineer who is more the agriculturalist. But as the Chequered Flag falls, I wonder if I am Too Old to Rock n Roll and yet Too Young to Die...
I may make you feel,
But I can't make you think.
You look more like a gutter-
runner than you do like a skink.
And the temple cities are all swept away
In Morrslieb's destruction, and bloody melee
The Slann's retreat spells a close of play
As memories of the Old World turn grey
But your new flesh is worn with skill
As the starlight makes you real
And you starpriests don't know how it feels
To be as thick as a Steg
You put your Ixti grubs on Eli-Nesz and it comes up every time.
The other skinks have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
and take your place in a stranger world where we're all made of stars.
And you wonder who to call on.
So! Where the warp was Kroak when you needed him last Spawnday?
And where were all the First Gen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in their chambers,
looking very bony. Guess the Plan goes on without them,
until we get some saviours...
Anyway...back on topic...
Anyone have an ideas for where to take the story to now?
I may have to take a crack at this Tuesday or so, but if anyone writes.something before me I am happy to pick up from anywhere.
Once this trip to the hills/fight with the Underwriter's friends is finished, I've got a bit of a plot, centered around Mr. Normon Johnson and the Nuln Railways Group.
The plot is nonl-linear / non-existant. Go ahead and add your chapter, or a detailed precis anytime
Absolutely go ahead with it, the brothers can come at any point, and I haven't had time to wtite. So feel free to write!
Nay probs from me either.
The Conductor or Among the Dust/High Noon Hijinx (part 6 (8))
“Are you sure, Lord Roob?” asked Lord Khan’Man, the gentlest touch of a smile creeping upon his rounded face.
In their viewing plane beyond time and reality the two Slann gazed over the sandy realm they had brought into existence merely for a bet.
“And that was how I destroyed not only the spineback ridges and the Skagg gang but created spineback canyon!”
“I know,” muttered Doc Bones into his drink which oddly looked like spoilt milk, “that’s the fifth time you’ve told us about it, Henry.”
“It’s the Prospector! Not ‘Henry’!” growled the Prospector, his beard bouncing in anger.
Doc Bones shrugged and turned his skeletal head away from the angry Dwarf to address the other two of the group. Felrix, the light furred Skaven had procured another pot of warpcoffee and her tail was already twitching from the caffeine drive. Eli-Nesz meanwhile was staring deeply into his empty glass, a claw scratching at his scaly head absentmindedly.
“It’s been quiet...too quiet,” whispered Doc Bones to the pair.
Felrix shrugged, “What-what is time anyhow?” If the cowboy attired Tomb King could have narrowed his eyeholes, he would have.
“That’s not helping, Brightfur,” he hissed, “As Mr Nesz here has pointed out, we’re not real. Just fabrications by one or more Slann for some great purpose. Though to be fair, all we’ve done so far is kill Skaven, kill goblins, ‘kill’ the Underwriter, and kill more Skaven.”
“Weren’t we meant ta run for the hills after that last one?” muttered Felrix as she gulped down another mug of ominously glowing coffee.
“Erm, yes...but we decided we had time for another drink...or three...”
“Shh, listen!” growled Eli-Nesz. The Skink bounty hunter rose and reached for his gun.
“I don’t hear anything,” growled the Prospector who all the same snatched up a red stick of dynamite.
“Ah, but few hear the falling grains of sand as time runs out,” spoke a new voice and the door swung open to reveal a tall moustachioed human in a suit and matching top hat. Felrix’s bullet whizzed towards said hat, but the human merely sidestepped out of its path.
“Now, now Miss Brightfur, I am very fond of this hat,” he paused to glance at the gold chased pocket watch in his hand, “I will enjoy killing you again.”
“Do...do I know you?” squeaked Felrix, somewhat unnerved.
“I do,” hissed Eli-Nesz, “He’s the Conductor.”
“Very good, Mr Nesz, or do you prefer Eli? You met my dear brother a little while back. He’s mighty upset about that piano you all landed on him. But I am not here on account of him, certainly not. The trains must run on time and I fear you must board this train very soon.”
“What train?” demanded the Prospector.
“The one to remove you from this world and into the empty void of nothingness. Normally my dear brother is the one to board you onto my train, but he’s somewhat indisposed.” He sidestepped as another bullet streaked to where his head had been.
“Every time, Brightfur. It’s really getting quite boring. That’s 379 times you’ve fired that bullet at me. You’ve only eleven shots left.” The Conductor turned towards Eli-Nesz. “And this is where you say: ‘he is able to reset time to a single point over and over.’ Although I’ve done it for you. You’re welcome.”
Eli-Nesz hissed. “We’re not going with you.”
“Just once I’d wish you’d say something different,” sighed the Conductor, “even if it was just for the variety.”
He stepped aside as another bullet whizzed past.
“Ten shots left, Brightfur. Although...I almost felt that one” the Conductor then sighed, “and this is the part where you all attack me.”
The Conductor leapt backwards out of the swinging door as a series of shots (and a stick of dynamite) shredded it. “Eight shots, Brightfur!” he chuckled as he danced away behind the cover of an overturned water trough.
The dry and cracked ground of the street shimmered for a moment before particles of sand and dust whirled into a storm. There was a dull clacking as Doc Bones strode out into the storm he had created. He clenched his bony hand into a fist and the storm grew fiercer, his empty sockets glowing with the light of Khemri.
The Conductor smiled and fired a single shot from a silver chased pistol that flew wide of the Tomb King. The bullet rebounded off of several pans, spurred on by the wind, before striking the sign above the tavern. There was a sickening crack as the sign broke away and fell onto Doc Bones with an equally sickening crunch. His skull, now loose, bounced away. The light dying in his eye sockets.
A hand pick flew through the dust, unerringly spinning towards the Conductor’s head. The Conductor merely smile and caught it mid-air and spun it around to deflect two Warpstone sheathed bullets. “Six shots, Brightfur,” he laughed and threw the pick back at the Prospector, bowling him off his feet and into a pile of rubble and wood.
Eli-Nesz and Felrix rolled out, pistols flaring. The Conductor merely sidestepped them and continued to countdown Felrix’s bullets. He fired back and the Skaven and Skink ducked behind cover. The Prospector rose again and cried out a challenge until a bullet streaked overhead and a large vulture fell out of the sky and onto the Prospector. He fell back into the rubble with a groan. From his cover, the Conductor’s hat could be seen bobbing up and down in laughter. His pistol appeared from cover again and another dead vulture landed precisely on Eli-Nesz, crushing him under its weight.
“Look, just make this easy for yourselves and give up,” the Conductor smiled as he rose from his cover and threw his pistol aside. Felrix leapt up and fired a single pistol. The Conductor’s smile did not waiver as he effortlessly plucked the bullet from the air.
“And that was your last shot, Miss Brightfur.” The Conductor stepped out and drew a long bladed knife. “Such a waste, firing off your shots like that,” he grinned as Eli-Nesz struggled to get back onto his feet. Felrix stood there holding a gun. “Oh c’mon, just drop it already, you’re looking very foolish, Brightfur. It doesn’t matter as this is the part where I kill you. Will you beg this time?”
Felrix said nothing as a shot rang out from her gun. The Conductor’s smug smile transformed into a look of horror as the bullet smashed his watch to smithereens. The remains fell to the dusty ground before being consumed in a flash of magical fire from the watch’s destruction.
“Felrix would have run out of bullets,” said Eli-Nesz with a toothy grin, “if I hadn’t of swapped guns with her whilst you were dealing with our companions.”
“But...this hasn’t happened once...not in all the versions I’ve been through...”
“That’s because you openly counted the bullets.”
“And I figured that if I were to disrupt that, the surprise would destroy your watch and prevent you from resetting things to try again. I also figured that such a move had not been made in any of the past versions of us you fought since its success would eliminate your ability to do so. There was a chance that Felrix could have missed in the past and you knew to plan for this. But Brightfur rarely misses a target like that, not when she knows what to shoot at.”
The Conductor began to slowly back away.
“And whilst you are kin to the Underwriter...I figure you are in this mortal form somewhat susceptible to mundane weapons, hence the amount of resets you needed to make to get to now.”
The Conductor growled and reached for a silver chased whistle.
“This isn’t over; the train will run on...”
There was a splintering crash as a piano fell from the sky and landed on the Conductor.
The town was silent.
“Erm, can you give me a hand?” broke in the head of Doc Bones, “I fear I’ve gone to pieces here.”
The Prospector also gruntingly pushed himself out of the rubble. Somewhere in the distance came the cry of “Not again!” from the saurid throat of Ti’Rakz.
And the sun continued to beat down.
“I like the sound,” smiled Lord Khan’Man.
“But that’s cheating!” exclaimed Lord Roob.
“Actually, I can give you the lengthy spacial and mathematical equations for how ‘The Conductor’’s constant time resets upset the balance of space and time, causing the last piano to also materialise in the present. I will give it to you, Lord Roob, you came close.”
“I hate you.”