1 Another Life
“Ooh shiny, just like a chav’s sovereign rings” Gimpy murmured to himself as he awoke to the gold clad surroundings of the temple he found himself in, his head still buzzing as fragmented images of a past life teased and taunted at the edge of his mind, frustratingly out of reach.
God was very bored the day Gimpy died, a strange accident involving a gimp’s costume and several other details best not told in front of decent company.
Dreamslayer had a weakness for the sadistic, it wasn’t for nothing He earned his moniker. After seeing Gimpy cross through the veil into the afterlife thanks to an act of stupidity that would have been a shoe-in for a Darwin Award and laughed heartily, He hatched a plan: Resurrect this fool he had stumbled across, much to the ire of His fellow Gods (they didn’t appreciate Dreamslayer’s meddling with humanity), fiddle with his mind so that he would remember nothing and answered to Gimpyslave (for that is what he is viewed as in the eyes of Dreamslayer) and send him on his way in an ever increasing series of stupid quests for His own amusement.
A blast of lightning to the head gave poor Gimpyslave his Ressurector’s vision and being too dazed and confused to think for himself off he went back into the mortal world, armed with nothing more than a fig leaf and questions that seemed important for him to find the answers to, put couldn’t quite put his finger on to why …
2 Yearning to be Unleashed
“For the amusement of your Lord you shall go join a guild” Dreamslayer’s voice boomed through the swamp just as Gimpyslave was about to deal the fatal blow to a Grim Weeper.
It had been some days since he’d last heard from his God. Not since he was shouted at for not remembering what he did the night before and losing most of his gold had he heard anything.
“Eh what?” Gimpy sputtered as he jumped halfway out of his skin, his ears ringing and now seeing stars as in the split moment he was distracted the Weeper bashed him round the head before making good it’s escape. “Blast!”
Dreamslayer chuckled. Seeing His plaything getting whomped by a third rate monster more than made up for the inconvenience of having to waste energy resurrecting Gimpy yet again after charging into one battle too many with little health and poor equipment. It certainly served him right for pissing away an endless stream of gold coins on beer and frivolity instead of putting it towards constructing a Temple in His honour.
Of course Dreamslayer knew He had the power to do something about the sorry looking bent up sword and balsa wood shield that was little more than kindling with the imprint of the last poor monster’s face that it had been shoved into, but he didn’t.
The spectacle of Gimpy running around with pink furry handcuffs on his wrists and a coconut bra to defend his body from biting teeth and scratching claws was far too amusing to think about changing. He could warp reality to a point where his minion was permanently stuck with said equipment if he could somehow dodge the wrath of his fellow Gods for doing so.
“A Guild my Lord? Why?”
“You dare question my machinations?” Dreamslayer shouted so loudly blood began to seep from Gimpy’s ears as a thunderbolt narrowly missed his head and split a nearby tree in twain.
“Yes, a Guild. Your pathetic existence would be enriched by the benefits a good Guild would bestow upon you. You might even die a little less frequently. Certainly you’ll earn more gold and be able to build my Temple a little faster.”
‘Guilds, Temples, gold. Next he’ll be asking for a Starship’ Gimpy thought to himself through the haze of pain he was feeling between the aches and bruises from a number of battles and the ringing in his ears.
The thoughts and images he saw fleetingly while in the deepest of sleep had started to become slightly clearer, yearning to be unleashed. So much to ask, so much pain that would surely come for asking. Gimpy sighed as he weighed up his options.
A Guild quest sounded more productive than the one a crazed sheriff set him the other day. Dim though he was even Gimpy thought seeking out Death was foolhardy, to waste his precious time by challenging him to a chess game seemed downright asinine.
“Where, pray tell do I find a Guild?” He eventually asked after thinking of several questions beforehand, each of which he felt were more pressing though he decided would earn him another dose of wrath.
“I have one in mind …”
3 Death Again
“Can I offer you a hand?” The hooded scythe wielding skeleton with blazing blue orbs for eyes asked without realising the little faux pas he had committed.
Gimpyslave, in his last battle had lost his left hand to whatever creature it was he had been duelling with. “Figuratively speaking of course.”
“Love one …. Oh.” Gimpy replied as he lay flat on his back, and until then not knowing he was down an appendage as a bony hand was extended for him to grab.
In a blur of motion he was on his own two feet once more, still a little hazy on what had happened. His head finally stopped spinning in the sort of way that would suggest he’d gone head to head with a freight train and lost. In spite of his disorientation he was aware of a distinct lack of pain, even with the knowledge he was less than whole.
Death carefully stowed away the ornate sand filled hour glass like life timer he had been clutching and looking at intently a few moments before as the last grains of sand tricked out and into the lower half of the glass.
Gimpy noticed the snapped sword, the severed tip of which was embedded in the ground and swore under his breath. Dreamslayer would kill him for letting such an expensive, and up until that day, weapon fall into such disrepair. It was only then the penny finally dropped as he realised he wasn’t standing on the muddy trail that the remnants of his sword now lies, but floating a few inches above it, more to the point above his broken body.
It was only then he realised Dreamslayer couldn’t kill him because something had beaten his often vengeful God to it. His body sans hand lay broken, his shield punctured by a long fang that had become lodged and his metal breast plate slashed to pieces.
“Damn ….”
“Indeed” Death noted simply as he hoisted his scythe, ready to reap the soul of yet another unlucky hero who had fallen by the wayside. He wondered why Gods bothered sending these sheep like fools on their quests if they weren’t going to look after them, and more importantly clear up the inevitable messy endings a lot of them ran into.
Whatever, their loss was his gain, he thought as he made to sweep the air with his scythe.
“Ahhh, what the hell?” a voice boomed, ripping the air asunder and causing a flock of birds to squawk in unison as they flocked into the air. Death almost dropped his scythe in surprise.
“You died again? What have I told you about not charging into battle when you’re half bleeding to death and with no health?” the voice howled in anguish as He realised He was not alone with his dismembered plaything.
“And what the hell are YOU doing here?” Dreamslayer rounded on Death.
With a blinding flash of light the corpse and soul of Gimpyslave had vanished, transported to the nearest temple for resurrection, again.
Death stood silently on the dimming trail, a distinct ‘glingalingaling’ sound much like the ringing of a small bell emanating from somewhere within his dark robes shortly followed by the distinctive trickle of flowing sand.
He fumbled for the hour glass, which was now full and flowing again. Another near Hero experience.
4 Pet Peeves
”.... And for cripes’s sake look after him this time,” Dreamslayer’s voice boomed, crashed and echoed around the temple as the wily mutt laying on the altar whimpered and stirred as he breathed his first breath for three days.
It had been a week since Gimpyslave had, for reasons that kept themselves to themself, decided to spare the life of a vicious Sun Dog that had ambushed him on his travels and singed his lunch with a misplaced incendiary attack.
Dogmeat, as he had decided to christen him, had become a useful ally in a world where everything and anything seemingly had it in for him these days.
He had lightened the darkest of days with inane antics such as hiccuping bubbles after a bath and howling wildly out of hey to Gimpy’s already terrible drunken singing that had got him run out of many a tavern on open mike night.
He was a fighter too, defending him to the last with vicious claws and fire attacks against foes that would otherwise have gotten the better of old Gimpy.
Of course, this upturn in life had it’s downsides. Dogmeat had swallowed several trophies to Gimpy’s annoyance, cost valuable gold on veterinary check-ups that he had put aside for getting wasted, and in times of rare lucidity he decided his gold would be better spent on a new weapon, Dogmeat’s presence got him thrown out of several trader’s stores.
Still, all that paled into significance when the other day Dogmeat had bravely finished off a Sabretoothed-Fairy that was poised to deal Gimpy a death blow at the cost of his own life.
How he had been miserable after that happened. He’d even been too miserable to drink himself silly that night when he finally staggered into a two bit town, the journey not at all heaped by the fact he was severely wounded and carrying his pet’s lifeless body as he was torn between burying him, eating him or to listen to the nagging sensation he should just keep hold of him for reasons he didn’t know why.
Finally, an hour ago he found a town with a temple and paid a visit. The high priests knew what to do in such circumstances as they were schooled in occult matters. One of them promptly told him he had gotten Dogmeat to them just in time and hurried away with the body to perform a ceremony involving candles, pentagrams drawn on the floor, various herbal essences being burned and a large sum of gold Gimpy had managed to keep out of the ill gotten hands of the local tavern owner.
Gimpy barely noticed his God’s voice rattling around and causing dust to rain down from the eaves, partly because he had long become profoundly deaf thanks to his God’s rantings, but mainly because he was overjoyed at the fact he had his pet back as he hugged Dogmeat and patted him down firmly.
“Hey I missed ya boy.”
Dogmeant simply wagged his tail.