by A Uscila
Ah, the question Luke dreaded hearing the most. A virtual landmine which demanded inhuman ingenuity and resourcefulness to cross. A bucketful of experience wouldn’t hurt, either.
“Umm…that’s a hard one…” – Luke began, while awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
“Easy is not something we do here in Uni.co” – Yet before he could finish, the inquirer quickly shot him down, a light frown directed at the table. Right at the spot where Luke’s hand was just moments ago.
Realization struck lightning quick and he swiftly placed the traveling hand right back on the smooth surface.
“Well…if everything goes well, I expect to be the ruler of the world with women and riches at arm’s reach!” – He began slowly, hand unconsciously lifting to the chin as Luke’s gaze seemed to drift somewhere far away.
“It’s good to have a sense of humor, but…” – the recruiter commented, only to stop midway as Luke suddenly leaped to his feet, hands lifting in a grasping motion - his lazy posture fixing itself, back straightening, shoulders lifting.
“…mortal empires would crumble while the God’s would bow before me! The world itself would quake before my might! For I am doom and all shall suffer my wrath!” - Absolutely oblivious, Luke roared with feeling, the last sentence no doubt heard beyond the small interview room the two were staying in.
Catching his breath, Luke seemed to finally return to planet earth, his breathing somewhat heavy. Slowly, his posture returned to the usual slump, hands falling down as he lowered himself onto the chair – “I mean…in ten years, I see myself working here…” – He attempted weakly, eyes shyly lifting to glance at the silent interviewer – who stared back agape.
*******
“So, what would you consider to be your three best qualities?” – A young fellow with pale eyes and light blue hair – neatly swept back and hidden under a hat with a capital C, asked – “Here at Crunchy Food, we offer the best customer service and hold high expectations of our employees.
“Well…” – Luke rubbed his chin contemplatively – “I’m competitive, result driven and most importantly…” – a pause – “…not an idiot!” – he slammed a palm onto the table separating the two, voice rising a few octaves all of a sudden, eyes shooting thunder at the blue-haired recruiter.
“What…” – who attempted to squeeze in a few words into the tirade, yet failed to do so, as Luke was, apparently, far from finished.
“You call this “best customer service”!?” – He continued, thumb pointing over his shoulders, where a glass door was present, through which the counter of a fast-food joint could be seen. Clearly, it was rush hour, since the few employees working there were being swarmed by a horde of hungry and dissatisfied customers – “I ordered a burger here a while back and not only did I have to wait for twenty minutes for it, but the buns were soggy and the meat was undercooked, I swear, it was barely edible! How is that even close to “Crunchy”, “food”?” – On a roll, Luke continued his tirade, putting extra emphasis on that in-depth breakdown – “And you have the gall to demand the best out of me, when your own employees fail to live up to them?!” – Luke rose to his full height, chest expanding.
“How about this” – He offered, one finger pointing to the ceiling – “You give me double the pay you offered and I shall morph this dump into a kingdom that lasts a thousand years!” – He proclaimed grandly.
A few moments of silence followed and judging by how the blue-haired recruiter seemed to be staring at Luke with eyes wide as saucers. Prospects didn’t seem very optimistic.
“I believe you should check my experience regarding that in the provided CV…” – Luke attempted.
*******
Defeated, head held low, feet climbing each step heavily – Luke returned home a lesser man than he left. All that effort, all that mental preparation – completely fruitless. Desperate, he stepped over his own anti-social tendencies, insecurities and general hate for people, just to assure a financially secure tomorrow. Regardless of his aspirations or proclamations in Alternative Reality, fact was that whatever he would manage to earn by selling gold – it wouldn’t last for long. A sustainable income was a genuine need and getting employed was somehow harder than he remembered. With a sudden jolt and a slap at the handrails, Luke’s anger reincarnated from the ashes of defeat, like some phoenix. He even lowered himself to working at a fast food restaurant. Fast food! Poor working conditions, long hours, minimal pay and constant contact with actual people. It was almost as bad as working in some call center. Luke visibly shook at the thought.
“Luke? Is that you?” – Ominously, a voice echoed from above, waking the depressed reject from his inner-mind.
“Huh? What? Is that you God?” –Surprised, he looked around, finding no one in the immediate vicinity. Obviously, the natural conclusion was that in his time of great need – divine powers have come to the rescue – “I’d like a million euros please…” – he pleaded.
“Stop playing around, jackass! Up here!” – With a glance upwards, over the handrails, Luke made eye-contact with Willow.
“I demand money as compensation for moral damage” – He complained sourly.
“I’ll damage your skull if you don’t get over here, pronto! We’re under attack!” – Sadly, the raging beauty was in no mood for fun and games.
“Again?!” – With a vicious scowl, the miserable coot exclaimed with clear disbelief.
“Yes, again!” – A curt affirmation was quickly thrown down.
“I’ll be right up!” – Completely disregarding her attitude, Luke resumed his climb up with renewed energy – agitated complaints drifting about in silent echoes - “What fools…how dare they…impregnable…I’ll torch them…”
“How about you spend less air on empty talk and speed it up?!” – Little patience was spared, for the agitated bachelor, as Willow’s shouts quickly silenced any and all mumbling.
“Well how about you provide some useful info while I climb, instead of shouting at me, damn it?!” – Yet that last verbal slap seemed to overflow Luke’s cup of patience as he leaned over the handrails once again and stared angrily at the vixen. The eye contact was as short as the voiced demand – before any reaction was given, he quickly darted back and resumed the climb. Barely three flights of stairs left.
“Goblins! And there’s a lot of them this time!” – Surprisingly, instead of continuing the argument, the impulsive heart-stealer complied.
Yet, just as she was finished, Luke’s hasty steps seemed to stop and soon – a balding head peaked out over the handrails again.
“Goblins? Seriously?! You could have told me from the beginning, instead of telling me to hurry!” – He shouted in a scolding tone – “Fuck are they going to do? Fill up the ditch with their own carcasses!?”
“Yes! Yes they will! And then they’ll break down the gates with sheer numbers and swarm the inside!” – Willow argued.
“Oh now you’re just being a worry wart. How the fuck are they going to break down the gates? The idiots can barely shoot an arrow!” – Luke’s teasing voice echoed, together with the sound of unhurried tapping of feet.
“With a horde of ogres, you dimwit!” – Willow’s voice reached a new pitch, her eyebrows furrowing with clear agitation. Somebody was losing their cool.
Instead of capitalizing on the opportunity to annoy a person, Luke went completely silent, the rhythmic tapping of feet ceasing for a moment or two, only to resume in a frantic flight soon after. Apparently, once the argument involves the word “ogre”, especially in plural – an immediate reaction from the other party comes to play.
“How about you two newly-weds keep it down over there? I’m trying to sleep here!” – Finally, one of the neighbors seemed to have had enough – as the fellow burst out of his apartment a couple of floors below and started shouting at the two.
“We’re not…” – Luke began.
“How about you mind your own business, before I help yo
u fall asleep, permanently?!” – Yet Willow’s aggressive threat quickly drowned out whatever he planned on saying.
“Were we already under siege when you logged off?” – Luckily, Luke’s climb was finally at an end, his overt attempts to end the conflict drawing the female’s glare.
“I’m sorry, what?” – The neighbor inquired rhetorically – “Wasn’t that a little rude? I’m just asking you to keep it down a little, you don’t have to be…”
“I swear, if you don’t shut it, I’m coming down and putting this high heel up yours!” – Attempts seemed futile, since Willow didn’t even bat an eyelash before leaning over the handrail with a high-heel in hand.
“I’ll just go check myself…” – Seemed as good a time to slip away as any, which Luke chose to do with little hesitation – his words mumbled quietly, almost as if to himself.
******
With a glass full of apple-juice in hand, comfortably leaning against cool stone, Wail peered through the window, eyes darting over the flashes of conflict way below, far on the very outskirts of his castle-town. Echoes of a battle that raged all along the northern outer-wall, reached his ears every now and then. Like a faint whisper. A promise of violence and death. A black stain covered the horizon as far as the far-off tree-line, descending upon the walls in a fury, crashing into them and receding like the tide. Relentless. Unending. While his underlings and minions battled whatever came fervently. With fire and sword. Yet here he was – like a dark overlord, perched atop the tallest tower, safe and away from all danger. He could only smile and lift the glass up to his lips – a sip of victory. A sip of triumph.
“Wail, we’re under atta-“ – In a rush, Scruff ran into the private chamber, the panicked warning cut off mid-sentence – “Oh, I guess you can see that” – he added, as Wail turned to regard the scrawny intruder with a raised eyebrow – “But that leaves me to wonder, why are you here and not there?”
“I see no reason to bother with those small fry. Let my underlings have some practice, while I oversee their progress” –Wail explained calmly, his attention now back on the battle.
“Oh, I see” – The pale clerk acknowledged as he stepped over to another nearby window and joined the delusional magician in the activity – “I’m just surprised you’re not there harvesting souls and experience, like you usually do. I heard a few of our mages exclaiming in joy about the unreal amount of experience they’re getting. Even Willow seemed to be having a great time…” – Scruff contemplated aloud, his attention briefly turning to regard the silent listener, which forced the poor lad to stop mid-way again. After all, the only audience he had was an empty glass on the window still. With a quick searching glance, he could just barely catch a glimpse of Wail’s billowing robe, before the magician completely left the chamber.
A smirk slowly surfaced on his pale features.
******
Earth rumbled in an orchestra of inhuman screams and screeches, filling the ears of all present, the noise overwhelming enough to numb their hearing. With perspiration running down the side of his face, Wail was busy sending a flurry of fire over the wooden walls, the smell of charred meat filling his nostrils, while bright flashes of crimson reflected off his eyes. Waves of billowing flame rained down upon the unceasing advance of foes, part of it from the deranged warlock and Sorro – who was perched atop the parapet with a toothy smile, his cackling barely audible over the racket. Yet they weren’t the only fire-wielders present, as the occasional robed bandit could be seen, peering down from wooden towers – streams of liquid flame expunged from their open palms, searing large swathes of land beyond the walls like they were wielding flamethrowers. Eventually, Wail settled on casting Soul Syphon upon the advancing horde, while a transparent line of purple connected him with the little devil. Who, of course, used this opportunity to shoot about rays of searing flame. Yet, no matter how overwhelmingly effective the defense seemed, the swarm simply would not end. Would not stop. Deranged, suicidal – the goblins, intermixed with the rare gobulf and ogre, sprinted onto the walls and down into the ditch like headless chickens, the threat of their lifeless carcasses completely filling it up increasing with each new addition. Yet Wail seemed blind to it, his gaze constantly drifting to the ticking soul count he managed to harvest, the corners of his lips extending ever further with each passing moment. Progress somewhat hampered only occasionally, as he impatiently swatted at an annoying floating black cloud above-head - the Soulfiend’s almost reproachful whimpers coming in reply.
“Get over it already, you’re not getting any, beyond what is necessary, you greedy mutt!” – Wail raged at the minion when his patience finally ran out. One didn’t need to wait too long for that to happen.
“Thanks for leaving me with that psycho neighbor!” – With impeccable timing as always, Willow approached with a complaint spoken, instead of a greeting – a couple of her arrows accurately hitting a couple of goblins straight into their eye-sockets.
“…takes one to know one…” – Wail mumbled in reply.
“What was that?” – Could have done it more silently, judging by how Willow reacted, though. Her piercing glare was almost lethal.
“I said, this seemed urgent!” – The warlock blatantly lied, only to release another cloud of black particles upon the swarm, sparing a glance to inspect her reaction, only to flinch away upon meeting her narrowed gaze – “…plus it didn’t seem like you needed help” – He added.
“What is that supposed to mean?” – Another accurately loosed arrow. Apparently the overly emotional state didn’t affect her skills.
“You fucking threatened him with a high heel!” – The warlock exclaimed in exasperation.
“And how do you imagine that would have turned out!?” – Her voice was practically dripping with mockery.
“I don’t know! Probably…” – Their little argument didn’t last long either. It never does in such circumstance. With a creaking rumble and a crash, the walkway trembled beneath their feet and the deranged lunatic ceased all hostile activity – palms grabbing onto the parapet for support – “What the…” – He complained, head peeking down over the defenses, lured by roars that seemed to be coming from right under. A strong smell of burned flesh assaulted his sense of smell and eyes widened at the sight of a berserking ogre below – its’ skin seared and melted off, smoke rising from exposed flesh. Yet, with erratic movements and roars, the beast pummeled and assaulted the wooden wall with all its’ strength. To an effect, for wood splintered and cracked.
“Sorro!” – Wail roared with gritted teeth and a bony finger pointed at the ogre, head turning towards the demon’s previous location. It stopped midway, since the walking fire-hazard was already leaning over the parapet and charging up a fire-ray.
“Already ahead of you, jackass!” – Sorro shouted.
“How about turning down the fire?! We’re not on stone walls, here!” – Willow complained, her figure bent over the parapet, facial features covered by dancing strands of hair – an arrow already aimed at the beast. And, probably for the first time – she missed her shot, since the shot flew way off target, just as the female archer reeled back in haste. Her previous position engulfed by a blaze - a twisting tongue of flame shooting upwards, followed by a final pained whine from the ogre. As quickly as it was shot out, Sorro’s ray of fire went out, a satisfied cackle slipping through a set razor sharp fangs. A toothy grin set to meet Willows searing gaze.
“Watch where you’re shooting that, you burned rat” – She snarled, yet for all her fire, all her venom - the demon simply cackled and pranced off to deliver carnage where it was due.
“You should really control that thing, before I put an arrow through it” – Willow commented with a furrow in her brow – her seared pride demanding ointment or retribution and Wail seemed to be the closest source. Or victim.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be sure to…” – Once more the universe interrupted poor Wail, as the wooden walls rumbled beneath his feet aga
in – “Oh god damn it, not another one…” – With sporadic anger, he shot over to inspect the bottom of the wall, only to freeze up as his eyes slowly drifted upwards and over the battlefield. The words spoken, drifting away as the tone of his voice went lower and lower – “You’ve got to be kidding me…” – he finally exhaled.
“Not this time…” – Willow added, her own gaze locked on the same sight.
Their fortification was still being swarmed and the fields beyond were moving and churning just the same. An angry sea, the fury of the waves. Yet right through the middle of it, like a great big tear – a spearhead of ogres were advancing. As numerous as the goblins and no less suicidal – they advanced with a rumble and a guttural roar, the first few already at the walls – crushing and ripping the wood apart in a burning frenzy. Quite literally.
“Earth mages! Tear open the earth!” – Quickly regaining his wits, Wail bellowed atop his lungs, the few earth mages that were around quickly rallying to the order as they heaved and pulled at the air. Slowly, the earth shifted and groaned – and a great big tear opened up horizontally, separating the tip of the ogre charge from the body – as most of those behind were quickly swallowed up by the sudden opening. Yet those ahead did not linger, did not hesitate. Headless, heedless, uncaring for their own wellbeing or that of their kin – they sprinted. They roared. Through waves of fire and over the heads of the swarming goblins and no matter how many projectiles rained down upon them. No matter how much the billowing flames licked and seared their skin or melted their eyeballs – the ogres advanced. The only ones stopping being the ones that were dead.
The wooden walls gave a final, sorrowful creak. A splintering groan. And finally gave in, while all those unlucky enough to be on it at that exact spot were sent flying – Wail being among them.
“Fetch!” – He roared in a panic, head dizzy from the spinning, yet not enough to fail to notice a quickly approaching building. He really didn’t want to experience the pain of falling through a couple floors again. Instead, he experienced being a chew toy to a floating wolf-head, as the Soulfiend masterfully intercepted the falling warlock mid-flight.
