That was the sound as Rook snapped his right arm into its socket.
Oh damn, what a day this had been. It all started off with him deciding that he should investigate the source of that disturbance in the Etheral Stream. Should have been easy enough, right? Nothing could have gone wrong, right?
Tell that to the legions of now-undead wart ogres he had under his wing. And even then it was only half the number since quite a few had been eaten by sandworms. “And those who didn’t get killed were arrested by those dark-gods damned Edge Guard!”
Rook seethed. The Edge Guard! Oh, how he absolutely loathed those good-for-nothing, goody-two-shoed bastards!
Plus, the fact that the Siberian Weretiger of that Edge Guard group, Tora, had literally pulled him apart limb from limb like some stinkin’ rag-doll didn’t set well with the Undead Knight of the East either.
“One of these days, I’ll see those bastards get theirs!” Rook snorted in disgust. “Especially that damned weretiger,” his eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kidnap them and sell them as slaves! Or condemn them to another universe! Or, or, or...”
Rook chuckled maniacally as thoughts of revenge began to stir in his undead noggin.
After a moment of insane laughter, one of the recently turned undead wart ogres walked up to Rook to tap his boss on the shoulder. “Uh, sir?” The ogre asked as best he could, considering that his mandible was falling off, it was quite a feat. “But are you sure this is right? I mean, this isn’t some sort of Crusade like your brother would always have us go on.”
Rook visibly winced at the mention of his goody-two-shoes, holier-than-thou asshole of a brother. Guy had died over a century ago during the Crusades on Earth. Couldn’t’ he have stayed dead?
Without a second thought, Rook tore off the undead ogre’s jaw and tossed it in the distance. A little unnerved, the undead ogre left his boss’s side to retrieve his jaw.
“Bishop...” Rook snarled silently. “God damn, do I hate that older brother of mine.”
Looking up at the sky, Rook shook an angry fist. “Damn you, Bishop!” He cried out in rage. “Mother always liked you BEST!!!”
(------)
Bishop, the Heavenly Host of the West, sneezed a moment, his nose rolling about on the open bible. “Oops! Sorry about that,” Bishop said out to those gathered in the vestibules. Picking up his nose, he pushed it back into place on his face.
With his nose back in place, Bishop continued to read from the good book to the people gathered. He had been doing this for the people on Jade for a good five hundred years now. He considered it his own missionary quest to spread Christianity to all of Jade.
And while he may not have been able to sway a vast majority, (Those werecats still preferred Bastet, and those Elves had their own deity system) Bishop knew he had brought the faith in God almighty to the people.
“I just wish I could bring my own brother to the flock,” Bishop thought sadly, continuing to read as though nothing was wrong. Rook always was the black sheep of the family... Well, right next to their father, Queen, the Drag Prince of the South.
But still, even though his brother was adamant about living his sinful ways, even into the unlife, Bishop did not give up hope. “One day, he will return to us! And what a joyous day it shall be!”
Oh, Bishop just knew Rook would love living the life of celibacy, after all, what good could dirty magazines do for one’s immortal soul? They were just little sinful pictures after all that just offered cheap little thrills; nothing like divine nirvana.
And so, Bishop continued to read, not pausing in the slightest. He had to spread the word, and deep down, he knew Rook would see the light...
...Eventually...
Hey, Bishop’s been waiting eight-hundred years already, what’s another century or two?
“And then we’ll get rid of those dirty magazines!”
(------) The coldest chill went up Rook’s spine, which caused him to sneeze loudly.
“God bless you,” one undead ogre said, before Rook punched him in the face. The ogre’s head skittered across the dessert sands for a good distance while the rest of the body fell in an unsightly heap.
“Don’t say that,” Rook snarled. “It hurts my ears.”
Shivering again, Rook knew he was in trouble. Someone was threatening his dirty mags, his one joy in unlife! Someone was going to pay!
“Uh, sir...” Another undead ogre began to speak up.
“What is it?” Rook snarled. God damn, these idiots were getting on his nerves. How could it be possibly for something to get dumber after dying!?
“Your face...” the ogre pointed.
“What?” Rook asked incredulously as he lifted his hand up to feel his face. He then realized what was out of place. “Oh, crap! Someone help me find my nose!”
"Who said anything about panties?"
See other episodes by Red Priest of the 17th Order
(Posted Fri, 23 Jan 2004 19:39)
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