128 lines
7.7 KiB
Markdown
128 lines
7.7 KiB
Markdown
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Gideon swore again.
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"Fuck!"
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The blood in on her forehead was starting to drip along her eyebrow, tickling as
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is grew ready to flow along the bridge of her nose and right into her eye.
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She tried to use her right arm, without dropping her enormous sword, to wipe
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the it off of her forehead before it dripped into her eyes. But the shredded sleeves
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of her cultist robes were already soaked through and the gesture only smeared sanguinous
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sludge over her nose and mouth.
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"Fuck. FUCK!" Gideon swore. In frustration she started to use the back of
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her other, less slimy hand, to do the job, forgetting about the razor sharp obsidian
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knuckle knives strapped to her left wrist. She stopped herself only a cunt-hairs breadth
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away from gouging the last pair of functioning eyeballs out of her skull. She still needed
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those.
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"Did I say fuck yet? Because seriously, fuck this ... Oh FUCK NO!"
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Moving her left hand had made her lose her grip on the princess's body. It slipped out from
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under her arm and fell back further into the pit, dislodging other precariously piled corpses
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and threatening to start a charnel avalanche which would bury Gideon in fresh human remains.
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"OMG Gideon what are you doing!? You let it go! I swear on our
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eternal rotting goddess, if you don't bring my body back in one piece I'll
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personally feed your fingers to the ommigrindr. I'm not bluffing!"
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The dead princess was bluffing, but calling her bluff would be nearly as painful
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as the actual omnigrindr, so Gideon said nothing. Instead,
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she craned her neck to keep her still-functioning eyeballs glued to the
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desicated royal corpse as it continued to slide deeper into the pit,
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closer to the aperture. Aiming from memory, she then swung her great
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sword backwards, tossing it up and out of the pit. With normal luck it should land
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in something soft, (hopefully a priest), and stay put. With Gideon's luck it would
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definitely spin in three perfect circles before plunging straight back down through
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her skull. At least that would shut the princess up.
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"OMG Gideon, what are you doing? That was your sword!" the once and former
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princess pronounced helpfully. "Why did you do that!?"
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"It's okay your highness. I'm sure you'll buy me a new one as soon as we bring
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you back, right?"
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"OMG Gideon what are you thinking? I can't... we can't afford... there is
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absolutely no... Oh. Ha ha. Ha."
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Death, (or undeath as it might be), must have improved the princess's powers of
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perception because it was typically the next day before she detected sarcasm, if
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ever.
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"OMG Gideon what are you doing!? Ahh! Ahh look it's going to fall in. Get it!
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Why aren't you looking!? Save it! Save me!"
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No matter how many times she had haunted Gideon, the princess couldn't seem, or couldn't
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be bothered more like, to understand the basics of parasitic possession.
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She never accepted that she could only ever see exactly what Gideon was seeing
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with her own, adequately functioning, eyeballs no more no less. Right now what Gideon
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was seeing was this: the precious corpse was starting to come unwound, its linen strips
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unravelling as it slipped and rolled over fresher, more fetid, human remains on its
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way toward the aperture at the bottom of the huge conical pit that Gideon and descended
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into on a rescue mission for the terminally damned. The aperture was a narrow choke
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point exactly like the throat of and hourglass. But instead of sand measuring minutes,
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the gently used, previously owned, second hand flesh-houses of humans measured
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eternity as they periodically tumbled into a stinking scarab-infested cavern below.
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The bodies came from all over. Most were offered by devout descendants of their lately
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devout ancestors. The Emperor Undying sent a regular shipment of 'retired' slaves from
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the arena or the mines. The army contributed a regular, though surprisingly modest---all
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things considered, share. But not all deceased homo-sapiens were appropriate offerings
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to the pit. For example the mummified corpse of the unholy princess of misery was a
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completely innapropriate offering---as the princess herself had been quick to point out.
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The bureaucratic error that had led to the present scenario was one of such gravity that
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mere death (even if preceded by unspeakable torture) would not have been sufficient
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punishment. However justice is blind, stupid and utterly corruptible; the very office that
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originated this unforgivable sin had managed to arrange things so that it became entirely
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Gideon's problem. The ghastly princess herself seemed to lose all interest incriminating
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the actual guilty party upon realizing she had obtained the opportunity to nag and torment
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Gideon, albeit briefly if the swordswoman was not successful.
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Gideon blinked. Sand scratched the inside of her eyelids. She wished devoutly that the
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princess could feel that too. Holding her breath and moving slowly she gingerly bent her
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knees and reached down to take hold of the end of the princess's linen wrappings which
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extened like a long fuse toward the regal stiff which was still unravelling slowly.
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Gideon swore again.
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"You fucking better have something on under those bandages, your highness. If I have to see
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your sundried titties or your fosilized fanny I'll rip each of my eyes out and throw
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them in the pit after you."
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"OMG Gideon what are you talking about! I'm ravishing and you know it. You should be so
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lucky."
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This was not the first time the princess revealed that despite seeing through Gideon's
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completely operational eyeballs, her vision was gravely flawed.
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Gideon, still holding her breath, gently tugged at the the cloth, the body started to roll faster.
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She gave a tremendous, pull hoping to snap the regal corpus back up towards her like a yo-yo.
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The force of the did flick the little morsel of dried princess meat into the air for a second
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before it tumbled directly through the aperture.
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The incorporeal princess screamed like a Saturday morning sacrifice victim from out of
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the depths of Gideon's skull. Gideon hadn't thought her head had such impressive acoustics
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but the spirit of the princess of misery's miserable shriek was reverberating through
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her brain like a amphitheatre. The linen wrap end in her hand was momentarily slack as
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the body tumbled into the void but then it grew taught with a sickening crack. Surely,
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the princesses body would have crumbled into dust at that shock. But no, the concientious
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embalmers of yesteryear must have done a good job of converting the petulant bitch's remains
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into some sturdy taxidermy because it held. The same clever embalmer, bless her heart, must
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also have had the stunning foresight to tie the shroud tightly around something, probably
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the imperial neck bone, as insurance against exactly today's eventuality.
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Gideon held firmly to the thin linen ribbon and could feel the body begin to swing at the other end.
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It was terrifically light at least. It hadn't caused her to lose her footing only a few yards
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away from the openning. Slipping now would mean falling, with the corpse, into a vast cavern.
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With any luck, she'd break her neck. With Gideon's luck she'd break her legs and stay conscious
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as the scarabs ate out her functional eyeballs, tongue, and tonsils before using her warm body
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to incubate scarab eggs. Eventually they'd get around to eating the princess's chewy hide but no doubt
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they would save if for last so Gideon would have some shrill complaining company during her last
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miserable days of life. Though, come to think of it, the princessly ghost was strangely quiet
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right now. Gideon decided not to think about what that might mean and dutifully started winding
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her catch back in.
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Angling for the dead like this had to be done slowly; to avoid slipping; for reasons that are now plainly
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established. So Gideon had time to think. That was bad.
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