The Relentless Slaughter [Round 3: Tormentorland]

The Relentless Slaughter [Round 3: Tormentorland]
#89
Re: The Relentless Slaughter [Round 3: Tormentorland]
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.

The last several minutes of his life had been an extremely confusing whirl of events and confusion and Samael found himself feeling rather meaningless to it all, though it was a feeling that accompanied many cycles through various lives. There were slumps in his motivation very often, considering that it always got harder and harder to find something completely new to do in every iteration. It got to the point where he now skipped the hormones-fueled existential crises bit because going through them over and over again got very ridiculous very quickly.

So, deliberately not dwelling on every single thing that didn’t go the way he would’ve liked to while he was a crab, Samael dug down to the root of his current issues and decided that he needed to stop wandering and start scouting. Start getting organized. Maybe gather the others, if not to start actually forming concrete alliances, then to start understanding who they were and where they stood because he honestly wasn’t very certain about any of them very much.

Samael looked himself over. The second thing he noticed was that he still had square holes in his hands, but that wasn’t as important as the first thing, which was that he was entirely naked. He rather regretted tearing off his robes at the very beginning of his crabscapades but pushed that aside in favor of looking for a hiding place before somebody called the cops on him. Before any parents had the time to be suitably shocked and affronted, Samael jumped behind the nearest stall and huddled near the ground. It would be really nice if he could just stay here for the rest of the round.

“Sir, customers aren’t allowed back here.”

If only.

Samael had gone on countless field trips as various children to numerous amusement parks. He had started off hating the damn things and grew to completely loathe them. The horrible food, the rides that threatened to toss his entire digestive system inside-out, the games that were obviously rigged in someone’s favor (that is, not him), the sickly bitter layer of lies that blanketed the entire place…

…and the crowds. Samael hated crowds. A gathering, an assembly, a shindig, that was all fine, but crowds. With crowds, it got hard to ignore the collective burden of guilt and sin that everybody carried about them. With crowds, it all blended into this one guilt-sin-black mass that hovered above and around him and generally made him feel misanthropic. He would like to just leave through the gates already, but seeing as he was severely lacking in clothes and self-confidence in his body, he would do the next best thing and hide in a corner, shut his eyes, and cover his ears.

“…Crap, maybe it’s one of those creepy pets…pretty sure that cephalopod dimension has humanoid – “

“Shut up please,” he snapped. The lady managing the booth shut her mouth, but not for very long.

“Okay, so you are sentient. I’d appreciate if you would put on some clothes and leave, not necessarily in that order, and don’t you dare make the excuse that you didn’t know that this dimension has a clothes requirement because we did put up signs and it’s in the brochures and all – “

Shut up,” Samael repeated, this time uncurling slightly and glaring up at the lady who was definitely a teenager. She wasn’t human, but humanoid. She was somewhat stocky, her eyes thin, her ears long, her teeth sharp. Her skin was an interesting shade of bronze. What Samael didn’t particularly like about her at the moment was how she was looking at him. She slowly raised a pointing hand towards him, which did not lessen his dislike of her.

The sign,” she rasped, causing him to look down and realize that what she was pointing at specifically was the pentagram emblazoned brightly on his stomach. “You’re him, aren’t you.”

Samael quickly recognized the signs of what was about to come. “No, no, no, I’m just, ah, a regular…being. From Dimension X.”

“That’s not even how we classify dimensions,” she said, her excitement growing while his skin started to feel itchy. “And a species of your description isn’t in the list of known dimensional beings that are sentient and connected to the interdimensional transport web. You’re him! You’ve finally come down in mortal form!”

That was it. He was undeniably being worshipped. He didn’t even know who he was supposed to be. He supposed he ought to be glad that it was only one person. One time, he had been born into a Satanic cult. It was a horrible and short life.

Samael took a moment to get used to the metaphorical fire coursing through his veins. As much as this situation wasn’t one he would like to be in, it definitely offered a lot of opportunities. After a while, he looked up.

“Do you mind getting me some clothes?”

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The girl’s name was Adora, but she went by many internet handles, all suitably dark and brooding. She hopped into the closest souvenir shop and grabbed a Rollo T-shirt, a Rollo sweatshirt, Rollo flip-flops, and a Rollo baseball cap. There weren’t any Rollo pants, just plain sweatpants. Pants tend to be the least-designed clothing. He tried to pay her back but only ended up forcing a fraction of what he owed into her hands. She immediately sighed lovingly at the touch of his hand and kept his Rollobucks in a very special place in her wallet. He never realized that there could be special places in wallets.

“So where’s the exit?” he asked, already lost in his short time in the damn place. Adora was happy to escort him there, shouting at some insectoid wearing a grav-stability belt to man the booth for her. Along the way, she felt the need to act as a tour guide. Which struck as an odd topic to hit upon with a deity or whatever she thought of him as. But whatever.

“So on the other side of the gates is…?”

“The InDim Train, able to take you to any dimension that’s connected to the rails.”

Right. Probably not able to save him from the battle entirely, but good enough to at least get him away from the park and any stupid thing the smug bastard had cooking.

“Good. I’m taking it, then – “

Before he could even reach the gates properly, there was a bright flash and then an explosion. Samael’s new cap almost blew off his head. Bits of InDim Train rained down, as well as bits of passengers. The employees still alive consoled everybody nearby that this was unprecedented and apologized for the inconvenience and assured that the Trains would be up and running soon enough and would they care for some complementary Rollobucks?

“Hey,” Adora said, craning her neck upwards at the sign above the gate. “Did that always look like that?”

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Re: The Relentless Slaughter [Round 3: Tormentorland] - by MalkyTop - 05-22-2012, 02:49 AM