Death by Cliché
Page 21
“What happened?” she asked.
“We won.” His voice cracked. He could hold her like this forever. He was willing to give that a try. Let his body stay in a coma. This was real enough.
“The Artifact?”
“I threw it in the fire. No one should have so much destruction at their fingertips.”
“Not even you?” she asked, a smile in her voice.
He kissed her on the top of her head. He felt good. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d actually felt good.
“If you had the ability to make someone disappear forever and without any pain, would you?”
“It seems humane.”
“Too humane. How could I trust myself? Their pain gives me pain, and that stops me. That’s what keeps me Human. How could I trust myself with something that killed so easily? Absolute power, none of the unpleasant consequences. I think I’d become the Evil Overlord.”
“The way I understand it, Hraldolf was your brother. He has no heirs. Heck, you were older and left the throne to him. The way I see it, you are the Overlord,” she said.
Damico shrugged.
“Omar?”
“Dead too long to save him,” Damico said. His brain would have started decaying by now.
“Jurkand?”
“Dead, I’m sure.”
“We’ll just wait for his one-shot resurrection to kick in.”
“Yeah.”
“The rest?”
“They’re fine.”
They held each other for several minutes, not caring if anyone saw. Then finally, as the tightness eased in Damico’s heart, he let her go and looked her up and down.
“Nice dress.”
“I don’t know when I screamed louder, when I thought something horrible was going to happen to me or when I opened the door and saw an entire wardrobe.”
“Sounds like a false disaster to me.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
They walked back to the throne room, arms around shoulder and waist. She nuzzled her head into him. Eventually, both of them would need to deal with the deep trauma of the day’s events, but for now, it was nice to walk together.
“What was the Artifact?”
“Something from my world.”
“Your world?”
“I’m not from around here.”
He still didn’t know how he’d got here. None of that made sense. Was Carl magic? Was this really Hell? What final piece of the puzzle would make sense of all of this? He might never know. Life was like that sometime.
Or maybe the author just wanted to leave something for a sequel.
She smiled. “How did the Artifact get here?”
“I’ve found socks, paper clips, and toys, all from my world. I think when something there is lost inexplicably, it appears here or somewhere like here.”
She walked in silence, then: “So, this is the trash pile of the universe?”
“Something like that.”
“We should be paid more.”
“Indeed.”
They strolled in silence a time longer. They passed two guards, but the men only nodded. Evidently you didn’t work for an Evil Overlord if you couldn’t take a little coup in stride.
“So, how did you get here?” she asked.
I said sequel.
“Someone shot me in the head.”
“So, you’re dead?”
“I think I’m in a coma.”
“So, this is all a dream?”
That one was easy. “No, this is real.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
He could hear the doubt in her voice. Did she know how short a time she’d been alive?
“Because I made it real.”
She nudged him with her head. “You’re talking like you’re some kind of god.”
He shrugged. “Only in bed.” How did he explain to her that each game master was the god of his or her little universe, and that he was perhaps a bit more? Better to let it go with a joke.
They arrived in the throne room, and she considered the excised upper levels of the keep for a moment, and looked past them to the fluffy clouds. He’d given them a tinge of sunset orange. He was rather proud. Gorthander had some of the remaining guards in a line, and he explained the new situation to them with a minimum of knee kicks and helmet-to-groin head butts. Meanwhile, Arithian lounged on the throne, surrounded by women. Damico wondered vaguely where he’d found them.
“You did a number on this place.”
“Hraldolf did. I was too busy trying to remember what a tumor looked like.”
“Come again?”
“Never mind.”
Damico flexed his hand. The power of the artifact pulsed there, flowing in his blood and vibrating in the muscles.
Gorthander nodded in Damico’s direction, and he smiled at the dwarf. For all the annoyance a player must feel for having a Non-Player Character win the adventure, Gorthander had forgiven quickly. He was a good guy. Damico wished they’d met in real life.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“After I take you to bed?”
She hit him in the arm. “What makes you think you are?”
“I’m pretty irresistible.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He gazed at the room and wondered that no one had searched for treasure yet. That had been Omar’s job. He kind of missed Omar. Likely he’d come back as Omar 2.
The creative force still echoed inside him. Without the Artifact, there was nothing for him to connect to, granting others life. Still, he wasn’t sure he couldn’t bring a person to life with a touch now, or even a glance. He burst at the seams. He overflowed. Enough life to birth a village. A nation. A world?
He’d have to see.
“After that,” he said as if she’d agreed. “After that, I don’t know. Something will come up.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they meet every week.”
“Who does?”
Damico smiled and took her into his arms. He kissed her thoroughly, passionately, lifting her off the ground. When he finished, he set her back down and gazed into her eyes.
“I sure hope you weren’t played by a guy.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
“Okay. I admit it. The pun was intended.”
—Bob Defendi
nd somewhere, in a shark’s belly, a hand twitched.
Bob Defendi
Age: 44
Eyes: Hazel Green.
Hair: Flowing.
Build: Like a Greek God, only better.
Height: In guy height or real height?
Race/Sex: Human/M.
Skin: Glowing.
Demeanor: Charming, witty.
Dress: You aren’t looking at his clothes.
True Attitude: Wouldn’t you like to know?
Home: Utah.
Human Wordsmith/Game Designer 99/99th Level
NG Medium humanoid (Or large. Ladies…)
Mightiness: Holds his own.
Intelligence: Hyper
Agility: Once tripped over home plate.
Wisdom: Timeless
Health: Eh.
Charm: Infinite (Would I lie to you?)
Initiative: Over a million words in print.
Senses: Hear Noise +4, Spot +4, slightly nearsighted.
Languages: English, American, Scottish, Irish, Australian, South African. Dropped out of Latin and French.
Armor Class: 28, 58 vs. criticism
Hit Points: 314
Weakness: Saturated Fat, Salty Treats, Carbs. (Critical Weakness to Peanut Butter M&Ms.)
Allergies: Gluten (He’s a celiac, not a hippie), Country/Western Music.
Grit: +10, Dodge: +8, Willpower: -5
Speed: 20 ft.
Melee: Backhand +34/+29/+24/+19 (1d3+3/19-20,x3)
Ranged: Scathing Wit
+23/+18/+13/+8 (1d10/19-20)
Attack Options: Biting sarcasm, disarming compliment, fast talk.
Special Qualities: Je ne sais quoi.
Feats:
Charm, Fast Talk, Animal Magnetism, Sex Appeal, Exquisitely Beautiful, Pheromones, Public Speaking, Fake it ‘Til You Make It, Spectacular Humility.
Skills:
Bluff +21, Boy Scout +4, Climb +4, Cold Read +4, Craft (Leather Crafting) +7, Craft (Miniature Painting) +11, Diplomacy +21, Drive +9, Handle Animal +2, Intimidate +15, Jump +3, Knowledge (History) +3, Knowledge (Movies) +7, Knowledge (SF Novels) +9, Hear Noise +4, Lovemaking +97, Pilot +2, Profession (Computer Tech) +10, Profession (Game Designer) +18, Profession (Plotting) +12, Profession (Writing) +8, Ride +6, Search +6, Spot +4, Swim +3.
Background/History:
Bob Defendi was one of the writers for Savage Seas for the game Exalted. He’s worked on Spycraft, Shadowforce Archer and the Stargate SG-1 roleplaying game. He wrote the current incarnation of Spacemaster. As the publisher of Final Redoubt Press, he designed and released the critically acclaimed setting The Echoes of Heaven. He’s was featured in Writers of the Future XIX, and When Darkness Comes. He’s the author of the successful podcast audiobook Death by Cliché (You might have heard of it). He’s featured in Space Eldritch and Space Eldritch II.
Bob Defendi was born in Dubuque, IA (in accordance with prophecy). He reads voraciously, if you consider audiobooks reading (which you shouldn’t). He has yet to find, conquer, and rule a small Central American country (but I think we all know that’s inevitable). He is neither Team Jacob nor Team Edward (he is sympathetic to Team Guy-Who-Almost-Hit-Bella-With-A-Truck). He shamelessly stole that last joke.
It’s Bob Defendi when he writes comedy. It’s Robert J Defendi for all other writing projects. No period after the J. Because he’s an ass who likes to make things difficult for publishers, that’s why.
Thank You
for Reading
© 2016 Bob Defendi
www.robertjdefendi.com
Please visit http://curiosityquills.com/reader-survey to share your reading experience with the author of thisbook!
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